


Draco's Pride, Harry's Prejudice

by KAD4994



Series: Original Fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, F/M, Gen, M/M, Snarky Severus Snape, brief mention of mpreg possibility, in character (mostly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAD4994/pseuds/KAD4994
Summary: Meet Harry Potter, a half-blood wizard and adoptive member of the impoverished Weasley family. When Blaise Zabini moves in to a nearby manor, his world is about to get shaken up for good. Several meetings later with the elusively alluring Draco Malfoy and Harry isn't so sure that his first impressions are always correct.You mix a stubborn Harry, a snarky Draco, a bumbling Neville, an obnoxiously loud Mrs Weasley and a caustic Severus Snape and you get the perfect recipe for Pride and Prejudice- Harry Potter style.





	Draco's Pride, Harry's Prejudice

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfiction. I love Pride and Prejudice and I love Drarry, so I just had to write it despite the fact that I am not in any way/shape/form a writer. 
> 
> Admit it, you think the Draco Malfoy makes an excellent Mr Darcy too. 
> 
> I don't have any idea how beta-reading works, so my beta is my spell-checker. If someone wants to clue me in on such things, I would be grateful.

Chapter 1 

 

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single wizard in possession of a complete education from Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry must be in want of a spouse. In the minds of every pure blood family, the wizard of noble family must be courted and pursued, until a matrimonial match can be made between two esteemed families. It was with this truth in mind that Mrs Weasley addressed her family over dinner one evening. 

 

 

“My dears, I have delightful news.” Mrs Weasley began, scanning the room to ensure that her children and husband were paying proper attention to her breathy announcement. When she were assured that even Fredrick and George were paying attention and had ceased hexing their younger brother Ronald, she continued grandly. 

 

“Have you heard that the manor has been let at last?” 

 

The Weasley family replied unanimously that they had not, and there were avid interest from all gathered at the table, except perhaps from Mr Weasley whose eccentric fascination with muggle instruments both baffled and infuriated his wife. 

 

 

“Yes, you will not believe it when I tell you who it is.” She paused dramatically before continuing, “Blaise Zabini.” 

 

 

“Blaise Zabini? From the wealthy and noble family of Zabini?” Ginevra Weasley, whom most considered to be the most attractive of her siblings spoke up incredulously, her warm brown eyes shining with delight. . 

 

 

“I heard he just keeps getting richer and richer,” Fredrick Weasley announced stoutly before his twin George chimed in with a wicked grin. 

 

 

“Yes, his mother seems to go through an awful lot of husbands.” 

 

“He's not complaining though if his inheritance keeps growing.” Fredrick laughed at his twin’s salacious implication. Their laughter was soon interrupted by their brother Percy Weasley, an arrogant and studious individual whose firm belief in propriety was often at odds with the joviality of his brothers. 

 

 

“I hardly believe it is appropriate to spread ill-founded rumours.” Came his pompous and nasal voice. The entirety of the table quietened briefly at this condescending proclamation before an eruption of noise quickly descending. The twins had chosen Percy to be their new target for hijinks, much to Ronald’s relief, and thus began a series of inane hexes in his direction. Mrs Weasley could be heard over the cacophony of noise to be scolding her sons, her vociferous ranting drowning out all other conversations. 

 

 

Mr Weasley, whom had actually been rather interested in the news of his new neighbour despite appearances, took this opportunity to address his pensive and reserved adoptive son, Harry Potter. 

 

 

Harry Potter had been adopted into the Weasley family around infancy; his parents James and Lilly Potter had tragically perished leaving Harry with a small fortune that had helped the impoverished Weasley family. His contribution to the household had been sorely needed, for though the Weasley family were of pure blood, they often lived beyond their means and had more children than perhaps was wise. Still, what they lacked in wealth they had abundance of in love and loyalty, and so Harry was, in every sense of the word, a member of their family and freely gave every galleon he possessed in maintaining the household. 

 

 

“What do you think of the news Harry? Do you have your sights set on Blaise Zabini and his riches?” Mr Weasley smiled as Harry startled from his reverie. He was certainly quieter than the other occupants of the table, perhaps his lack of Weasley genes made the distinction despite the same upbringing. 

 

 

“It wouldn't matter if I did. I'm only half blood, a pure blood family like Zabini wouldn't even consider me.” He answered calmly with only a slight hint of sadness as he recalled his pure blood father and muggle born mother that provided his heritage. It wasn't fair, but there wasn't much to be done to change the systems of hierarchy in wizarding Britain. The only thing that mattered was your blood status, gender, race, sexuality were not a concern if your heritage was pedigree and your family of noble stock. 

 

 

“Oh Harry, surely you know your magic is as powerful as any pure bloods’, plus your education has been exemplary.” Mr Weasley felt obliged to reassure his favourite son, though there was truth in his words. 

 

 

“While that may be true,” Harry began modestly, he did love his adoptive father for trying, “It wouldn't matter to the family, you know being pure blood is the only way.” 

 

 

“It didn't matter to your father James, when he married Lilly. Don't sell yourself short Harry; you're intelligent, handsome, kind and compassionate. The family of Zabini would be fortunate to have you in their life. I know that we have.” 

 

 

Harry gave a small smile at Mr Weasley’s words of encouragement before shaking his head ruefully, “Ginevra is all those things and more. I guarantee that she will capture Zabini’s eye if he isn't a fool.” 

 

 

They both turned to study Ginevra Weasley, the only daughter of the Weasley family. Her strikingly red hair shining in the evening sun, it glowed with an ethereal hue of gold. She was not aware of her father and adoptive brother observing her and laughed merrily at something Ronald had said. 

 

 

Mr Weasley resolved then that he would ensure that Harry was matched well in matrimony, Zabini or otherwise. He may have only been adopted into the family, but Mr Weasley viewed him as a true kin and perhaps even a favourite son. It was with this hopeful mind frame that a welcoming correspondence to the Zabini family was owled, and an invitation to a festive ball was received in return. The entirety of the Weasley family were very excited indeed. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2 

 

 

The manor that was now referred to as Zabini Hall had been thoroughly decorated in true resplendence. Mr Weasley had met Zabini earlier in the week and had been quite satisfied with the charming nature of the wizard, and it was with much excitement that rest of the family anticipated their first meeting. 

 

The Weasley family were sure to make an entrance whichever event they attended, if only for their sheer size and luminous hair colouring. The red-haired gentlemen wore last year's wizarding robes whilst the two women were attired elegantly in dresses they had made themselves. Much to his dismay, Harry had been coerced into using some of his personal fortune to spend on his own new and sleek robes, Mr Weasley wouldn't hear of Harry purchasing a new set for the entirety of the family, though he had resolutely offered. 

 

 

The fashion of their attire withstanding, the Weasley family made a handsome group in their finery, and they caught the attention of Zabini upon their entrance. The refined gentleman appeared to be immediately struck by the beauty of a Ginevra, her fine features displayed perfectly with the vibrantly dark green dress that she wore. Introductions were made, and it was clear that Mr Zabini was a handsome, charming wizard though there was doubt in his choice of company. 

 

A Miss Pansy Parkinson was introduced to the Weasley family, and Harry was immediately struck by the calculating look that had failed to be masked by her false pleasantries. She was an elegant lady, her looks well suited to her pure blood heritage and her dress illustrated her vast wealth and fortune. Her smirk of condensation at the Weasley’s outdated robes showed Harry her lack of good breeding however, and he decided there and then that Pansy Parkinson was a petty, spiteful and calculating woman. 

 

If Harry had thought Blaise Zabini to be handsome, which he undoubtedly was with his strong features that hinted of an Italian descent, then the wizard next to him was nothing short of beautiful. Mr Draco Malfoy as he was introduced was every inch an aristocratic Adonis. Pale, delicate skin accentuated by white blond hair; lusciously beautiful lips and sparkling grey eyes made him resemble a biblical angel. Added to the allure was that the Malfoy family were rumoured to be one of the wealthiest and noblest wizarding families in Britain. Their vault was purportedly overflowing at Gringotts and they were the owners of an extensive portfolio of properties, art and magical items. Yes, it was deemed that Draco Malfoy was to be admired and pursued as a very eligible wizard. 

 

 

That was until his manners proved to be insufferable. Though he acted with a thin veneer of civility; it was clear that he thought the event was beneath him. He refused to dance or hold conversations with anyone who was not part of Zabini and Co; though it was hard not to notice that Mr Malfoy was a spectacular dancer when he deigned to grace his female friends Miss Pansy Parkinson and Mrs Daphne Nott with his hand after much cajoling from Zabini. 

 

 

All the wealth, looks and status in the world could not save Mr Malfoy’s reputation as the most arrogant, prideful wizard they’d had the displeasure to have met. Harry observed this occurrence with much amusement and he could hear the disdainful drawl of the wizard as he bemoaned the state of the food and lack of competent house-elves. His mirth must have showed upon his face, for his dear friend Miss Hermione Granger sat down with a questioning chuckle. 

 

 

“I take it that Mr Malfoy is not to your liking?” Hermione remarked sagely, her warm brown eyes twinkling with amusement. 

 

 

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. I've spoken less than ten words to the man.” Harry replied with evasion in mind, though his intelligent friend just glanced at him knowingly until he continued in exasperation, “Fine, the man is striking. But his personality is insufferable.” 

 

 

Harry raised his hands in defeat as Hermione gave a sweet laugh. “Speaking of striking, your sister has held the attention of the oh so charming Blaise Zabini for the entirety of the evening.” She nodded in the direction of the couple as they swayed in tandem to the music, both beautiful in their joy. Harry smiled happily as he noticed his adoptive sister's overwhelming happiness and he resolved to converse more with Zabini to gauge his character better. A deep voice startled Harry and his companion from their tete-e-tete, and Harry glanced up to see a pleasant-looking wizard smile his introductions. 

 

 

“Sorry to interrupt; I am Seamus Finnegan. I was hoping to claim this dance with you Miss..?” The man’s accent hinted at an Irish origin and his lilting tone was only enhanced by his impish grin. 

 

 

“It's Hermione Granger.” His friend replied as she accepted his hand. Harry could not help the grin of approval that lined his face; his friend did not get many offers to dance usually, her muggle-born status a large deterrent in this elitist society. This joyful moment and personal victory appeared to be celebrated too soon as he overheard the most startling conversation concerning himself. 

 

 

“Draco, you need to enjoy yourself. At least ask someone to dance.” Blaise Zabini implored his friend. 

 

 

“I have danced. With Parkinson and Nott at your request.” The gentleman seemed stiffly affronted at this grave injustice and Harry worked to hide his smile as the stately drawl continued; “I have no other suitable partners to dance with Blaise, it is hardly my fault that this place does not afford high society.” 

 

 

“No other suitable partners?” Zabini sounded incredulous, “Why there are plenty of charming witches and wizards that would be just dying to make your acquaintance. Come Draco, let me introduce you to Harry Potter here, your sulking is disturbing the ambience.” 

 

 

“Him?” Mr Malfoy looked in the direction that Zabini had indicated and Harry flushed with embarrassment at the scrutiny though he worked hard to hide it. 

 

“Yes. He's the adoptive son of the Weasley’s. Don't you find him remarkably handsome? Miss Weasley says that Mr Potter is a remarkably powerful wizard and is highly educated.” 

 

 

Mr Malfoy shook his head disapprovingly at his friend, “He's passable to look at, though I wouldn't go as far as to say handsome. I thought you'd know better by now than to allow a pretty face to fool you.” 

 

 

“She sure is pretty isn't she?” Was all Zabini replied, and Harry couldn't help but feel a petty sense of victory for the conclusion of their conversation. Still embarrassed over what he had overheard, he felt vindicated with every word of condemnation that was laid upon Mr Draco Malfoy. 

 

 

Chapter 3 

 

 

“Well it does certainly appear that Zabini was taken by you Ginevra.” Mrs Weasley crowed with glee. It had been her life's ambition to see all her children well married, a dream that had in part been fulfilled by the marriage of her two eldest sons Charles and Billius Weasley whom had taken partners on the continent. 

 

 

Ginevra merely blushed, forcing Harry to pat his sister's hand reassuringly. It was well known that the Weasley matriarch was prone to embarrassing tirades of affection, particularly after a glass or two of sherry.. It was his turn to flush however, when Mrs Weasley’s attention was focussed upon him, her ire making itself loudly known. 

 

 

“Can you believe the nerve of that man? Mr Malfoy refusing to dance with Harry as he thought him not be handsome enough?” Mrs Weasley's eyes flashed with anger, for though she doted on her biological children, she still held pride in her accomplishments for bringing up Harry, and he really was a strikingly handsome wizard. 

 

 

“Harry is far better off not dancing with the young Malfoy. I've heard troubling rumours about the Malfoy family.” Mr Weasley's voice was unusually serious, making the table take heed of his words. That was until Mrs Weasley began to laugh raucously. 

 

 

“Oh Arthur, don't bring politics into this. The man clearly suffers from a swollen sense of self-importance.” 

 

 

“Well he sure is rich and handsome.” Fredrick felt the need to point out helpfully before his twin chimed with a devilish laugh. 

 

 

“Even if he's a little pointy.” At their own jokes, the twins sniggered to themselves whilst the rest of the family, used to the duo by now, merely rolled their eyes and continued to eat in silence. 

 

 

“Well, I for one have more pressing things to attend to than idle gossip.” Percy stood up from the table, his tone filled with his usual sanctimonious pomp. When no one deigned the answer this statement he left suddenly, retreating to his bedroom where he spent the majority of his time. 

 

 

Before the family had time to fully register his departure, a regal looking owl flew into the dining room, landing softly in front of the Weasley daughter. A flowery scroll was soon detached, and the bird waited obediently in expectancy of a treat that was promptly given by Ronald from his plate.. Ginevra read the letter avidly, a smile of pleasure slowly forming on her face as she perused its contents. 

 

 

“Oh. This is great.” She exclaimed, “Pansy Parkinson would like to me to join her and Daphne Nott at Zabini Hall for the day. The gentleman are out looking at properties for their joint potions endeavour, but will most likely be back by the evening.” 

 

 

“Go Ginevra, take the broom though. That way if it rains, as it's looking to do, then they're likely to put you up there until it's safe to fly again.” Mrs Weasley urged, counting on the civility of the pure blood family to induce an extended invitation. 

 

 

“Are you sure?” The girl asked doubtfully, she was undoubtedly a competent flier, but the weather did truly look ghastly. Her mother's assurances did little to soothe and so with great reluctance, for few were brave enough to contradict the imposing woman, Ginevra obeyed and set off to fly. 

 

 

It was somewhat predictable then, that no sooner had Ginevra blinked out of eyesight, that a heavy downpour occurred. Thick, bulbous raindrops sloshed noisily and Harry could not help but be filled with worry even whilst he played chess with Ronald. 

 

 

A short while later, the weather appeared to settle and the twins decided to venture out to visit the Lupins, close family friends, and asked Harry and Ronald if they'd like to join. Harry was about to agree to the expedition, anything to alleviate his boredom, when a snowy white owl addressed to himself interrupted his deliberations. His anxiety only increased when he recognised it was from his dear sister. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Harry, 

 

I am thankful to have made it in one piece, though it seems Mum will get her wish as I am unwell and have been made to stay here for the night. 

 

Don't worry brother, Pansy and Daphne are taking good care of me, I am just letting you know so you don't send out a search party, you have the whole saving people complex after all. 

 

 

Ginevra 

 

 

 

Harry was instantly alarmed and decided not to rest till he could verify his sister's health for himself.. He did not trust the two women of Zabini Hall and no matter his parents protests that Ginevra was likely fine and in bed with just a sniffle, he would not give in. In the end, after much fighting over whether Harry should also ride a broomstick or not, Mr Weasley had handed him some floo powder and the use of his office’s fireplace. Pronouncing in a clear, determined manner; the words Zabini Hall were uttered before the green flames licked at Harry's feet, engulfing him in a wave of magic. 

 

 

“Mr Potter, whatever are you doing here?” The kind face of Blaise Zabini was studying him with concern. A red stain adorned Harry's face as he realised that he was on the floor of the grand hall covered in dirt whilst the occupants gazed at him in astonishment. His cheeks now flaming, he tried to explain that he'd heard of his sister's ill health and had intended to floo into the entrance room where visitors were normally received. 

 

 

Zabini smiled at the explanation that Harry had managed to stutter out before reassuring him that the entrance floo had yet to be connected, and that he was amazed Harry had managed to even make it through to this floo given that it was blocked until the house elves had performed their maintenance upon it. Harry nodded quietly, trying to keep his eyes away from the two women's derisive smirks. He unfortunately caught Malfoy’s gaze, and he noticed that the blond man was surveying him with cool detachment. Of course he had to have been dressed impeccably with not a hair out of place, leading Harry to further feel his mortification. 

 

 

“Would I may be able to see my sister now?” Harry asked stupidly, wondering not for the first time if he had been too rash in galloping over here. He figured that he at least ought to fulfil his original purpose in seeing to her health. It was a mercy that Zabini was every inch a kind gentleman for he answered pleasantly, even offering Harry to stay for dinner once he'd seen to Ginevra. It was with much trepidation that Harry accepted the offer and he made the condition that Ginevra was well enough for him to attend. Harry's exit was hurried and he missed entirely the scathing remarks that was said about him in his absence. 

 

 

“Did you see him trailing soot and filth like a common street urchin?” Pansy remarked scathingly to Daphne with a cruel laugh. 

 

 

“Oh I know, how rude to just enter someone's home like this. His manners are non-existent. What kind of excuse is it? Ginevra has a cold, she does not need him to play nurse maid.” Daphne retorted venomously. 

 

 

“I didn't see anything wrong with it. I mean it was hardly his fault our floo hasn't been connected properly. He was just concerned about his sister, you have to admire that.” Zabini said quietly in defence, not wanting to argue with his two female friends. 

 

 

“Surely you have something to say about it?” Pansy addressed Malfoy who had been staring pensively at the fire place, and oblivious to the conversation. 

 

 

“Oh… I mean yes, it's generally not good form to just turn up at someone's house unannounced. It would have been wise to have owled ahead first.” Malfoy's cool drawl brought a frown to Pansy’s face for she had expected his usual haughty censure. 

 

 

Harry was shown to the guest room where Ginevra laid by a house-elf. Upon his entrance, she smiled and shook her pale face ruefully. 

 

 

“I should have known that you would trek over here and come to my rescue.” She teased before launching into a particularly nasty coughing fit that had Harry wracked with concern. 

 

 

“You know me. I can't let a damsel be in distress.” Harry shrugged before placing his hand on her warm cheek. “I'll stay here with you, until you're better.” 

 

 

“No Harry you don't need to do that. You should go downstairs and enjoy yourself. I'm probably just going to sleep.” 

 

 

Harry did not think joining the others would be his idea of fun, but he compromised by promising to leave once she fell asleep. With the sole exception of Zabini, Harry had a feeling that the others would not exactly welcome his company and he had no desire to exchange awkward small talk with those who would scorn him. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4 

 

 

During his absence, the female occupants of Zabini Hall had taken upon themselves to abuse Harry in every single way possible. They mocked his unruly hair, his appalling lack of fashion sense and admittedly tawdry pair of glasses. They proclaimed that his manners were exactly the sort one would expect from a half blood that had been adopted by a pure blood family with such lack of finances. It was after they had exhausted every opportunity to mock Harry that Pansy noticed that Malfoy had not joined in with his usual mirth. 

 

 

“I bet I can guess what you are thinking. You wonder how Blaise can defend such startling lack of manners.” Pansy whispered coquettishly to him, in an effort to gain his attention. 

 

 

Jolted from his rumination, Malfoy absently replied; “On the contrary. I was thinking of the beauty that a pair of passionate eyes can hold.” 

 

 

Pansy, not wishing to waste an opportunity to get her objet d’amour to compliment her, fixed her widened eyes upon his before asking, “Whose eyes have got you waxing poetically like a Hufflepuff?” 

 

 

“Mr Harry Potter.” Came his unconcerned reply, he did not care enough about Pansy to worry about her reaction, much to the lady's dismay. Her stunned silence was her only response and Malfoy left her presence with an indifferent shrug. He missed the waspish narrowing of the brunette’s eyes as he strolled away from her towards a sitting area whereupon he summoned parchment and a quill and set to writing a letter in his own elegant script. 

 

 

This was the scene that Harry stumbled upon a few short moments later. All eyes turned towards him and he flushed at the scrutiny. Zabini broke the silence with a civil enquiry into Ginevra’s health for which Harry was grateful. 

 

“I'm afraid she's not doing well at all, the potions have helped her to sleep but it is up to her body to fight off the sickness.” Harry replied grimly. 

 

 

“Oh I do so hate being sick, it makes one highly inelegant.” Remarked Pansy blithely and an awkward pause hung momentarily as everyone struggled to formulate a response. It was broken by the condescending drawl of Malfoy and Harry looked up quickly to notice the blonde's steely gaze was focussed upon him. 

 

 

“I shall contact my godfather Severus Snape, he is a potions master and could be of some use in healing Ginevra.” 

 

 

“Thank you.” Harry replied politely, though he was puzzled by the seemingly officious offer that was directed towards him. The brief feeling of goodwill towards the man was broken at his next statement however. 

 

 

“Of course it helps to know the right people. Some wizarding contacts are worth more than others.” Harry fumed at the implication and quickly deduced that the wizard had just wanted on opportunity to brag and inflate his already swollen ego. 

 

 

When this comment was met with silence from Harry, who had bitten his tongue to prevent an unseemly retort, Malfoy excused himself back to his created writing area and resumed writing in earnest. The others quickly situated themselves to the various activities in the room. Theodore and his wife Daphne sat upon a table that had been set up for Exploding Snap at the request of Zabini. The gentleman took to inviting Harry to enjoy a game in earnest, but Harry declined politely excusing himself to not wanting to play games when he may need to attend to his sister. Instead he opened a book that analysed Quidditch strategies and skimmed listlessly as to his right Pansy was making a distracting attempt to solicit Malfoy's attention. Harry couldn't help but smile at this vain attempt. 

 

 

“Please give Narcissa my regards.” Came Pansy’s voice once again as she gazed admiringly at the penmanship. 

 

 

With an impatient sigh, Malfoy replied; “I already have at your request.” 

 

 

Pansy carried on seemingly oblivious to his lack of reciprocation for the conversation; “Oh good. You know how I adore your mother. She has the best rose garden in England.” 

 

 

This softened the man somewhat as he smiled fondly as he spoke of his mother; “Yes, she does love to get out into her garden, it kept her mind off of things after the war killed my father.” 

 

 

Harry saw the small wrinkle in his brow as he mentioned things that were clearly still sensitive for him. Pansy continued airily, unaware of the tension her words were causing. 

 

 

“Oh yes Lucius. You know I never met him. It's a shame really I'm sure we'd have gotten along.” When this was met with silence, Pansy opted for another tactic, namely trying to belittle Harry. 

 

 

“Malfoy Manor truly is a paradise. I bet you've not seen anything like it Harry. The grounds are extensive, the rooms decorated to an impeccable taste and the art collection is divine. Truly a home for a noble pure blood family.” 

 

 

“No, I probably haven't seen a place that grand.” Was all Harry replied, amused by the glare he received as his calm manner demonstrated that he had not been successfully provoked. He chuckled as Malfoy raised a sardonic eyebrow at Pansy’s proclamation. 

 

 

“I am flattered that you both speak so highly of my home. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve such praise..” He drawled in his highly cultured tone with a touch of humour. 

 

 

At a loss of how to respond to such an abject failure of her plan to embarrass Harry, Pansy became more desperate in her attempts to claim the blond’s attention, growing more waspish in her addresses to her rival. Harry, eager to be away from such bleak company could only pray that Ginevra recovered quickly, so they could escape. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5 

 

 

Though Harry got his wish the day after the next, it unfortunately came with such a high price. Ginevra was well enough to travel home, much to Mrs Weasley's dismay upon reading Harry's letter, and it was arranged that a thestral drawn carriage would take them both home to minimise the risk of a return illness. This was why it was rather a large shock to Harry and the other occupants of Zabini Hall, to hear the boisterous voice of Mrs Weasley call through the floo as they ate breakfast. 

 

 

“Mr Zabini, it's Mrs Weasley.. How is my Ginevra doing? Do you think it wise to move her?” 

 

 

The loud startling voice of her mother caused a puce flush of mortification to the girl’s face, and she attempted to become as inconspicuous as possible. Harry however, was growing impatient with his adoptive mother as it was obvious that it was a ploy for Ginevra to stay in Zabini’s company. 

 

 

“Ginevra is well enough to travel. She needs her own home and familiar comforts now. We agreed remember that we'd kindly use a carriage pulled by Thestrals..” Harry strained for politeness though he also wanted to cringe from the awkwardness of an open floo call. He was certain that he could feel the silent judgement of Malfoy as he spoke. 

 

 

“Oh Harry that seems a big inconvenience to Zabini. Actually are we able to come through? It's so much easier to talk in person.” Before Zabini had chance to respond, Mrs Weasley emerged from the fireplace looking rather dishevelled with soot and grime. She was closely followed by not only Ronald, but Fredrick, George and Percy. The room was soon awash with filth covered red heads, and Harry cringed at the startled look upon Zabini's face, not to mention the condescending smirk on Pansy's. 

 

 

“You have a nice house Zabini.” Fredrick announced after he'd dusted himself down, everyone turned in anticipation for George's comment. He did not disappoint. 

 

“Yeah you can tell you've got money with the size of the place.” 

 

“Not that size matters of course.” The twins both chimed together, complete with a lewd wink. Mrs Weasley appeared to be oblivious to their antics and only further worsened the conversation. 

 

“Yes it is rather lovely, such a great size for a few balls.” A meaningful look was directed at Zabini as she said this with no subtlety whatsoever. Harry yearned to grab his family and leave immediately, surely it wouldn't be too impolite? He was actually contemplating how many of them he could apparate at once, when Zabini recovered his composure enough to smile warmly. 

 

“I will be sure to hold a few balls here Mrs Weasley.” It was easy to see the gentleman’s good breeding as he handled himself with upmost dignity and aplomb. 

 

Before anyone had chance to formulate a reply to Zabini, Percy suddenly chose to announce with great condensation; “Don't you find that the time spent at balls could be better spent studying or researching? I mean dancing doesn't have much merit on its own.” 

 

“You only say that Percy..” began George with a malicious grin. 

 

“Because you can never find a dance partner.” Continued Fredrick smoothly as though they'd rehearsed this eventuality. 

 

“Who's want to dance with you?” They both said impishly, and their laughter echoed around the silence of the room. 

 

“Mum, when can we go? I'm hungry.” Ron whispered to Mrs Weasley, unfortunately the volume was louder than intended in the stilted silence of the room, and not one person didn't hear. Harry wanted desperately to bury his head, but had to settle for an inward groan. Hoping to prevent any further familial humiliation, Harry stood up decisively and expressed that if Zabini would be so kind as to allow use of his floo, that his sister may return to the comfort of her own bed. 

 

 

“Of course, I am sorry that you don't wish to stay longer.” His dark eyes were set upon Ginevra’s as he winked, causing her to blush. "Though I can understand the allure of ones’ bedroom.” 

 

 

With no other rebuttals to be made, Mrs Weasley resigned herself to the outcome, though not before repeatedly thanking the ever so gracious Mr Zabini for his hospitality. Harry, whose relief at being able to escape could not be outmatched, almost missed the respectful incline of Draco Malfoy’s head in his direction. Fortunately, he did glimpse the intended nod of farewell and he puzzled over this unexpected action of civility for the rest of the day. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6 

 

 

Though Harry was happy to be home at The Burrow, he did miss the quiet reflection that accompanied Zabini Hall. If it wasn't for the unwelcoming presence of Pansy Parkinson and the other entourage, he might have longed to return, if only to escape the madness of his home. His adoptive family was rambunctious and wild, and the overcrowding meant that he had little time or space to think for himself. This made the news of an unexpected visitor particularly irksome in Harry's mind when it was announced the following morning. 

 

 

“Well my dears, it appears that we shall be having a guest shortly arriving.” Me Weasley announced to the family whilst he buttered his toast absently. 

 

 

“A guest? Who is it Arthur? Oh please say it's Zabini, he seemed quite taken with our Ginny.” Mrs Weasley fussed anxiously, already listing in her head; the meals that would need to be prepared, the extra chores that would be need to be done, if it should be a spring wedding or a summer, what gown style would be appropriate... Sadly for her, the fanciful musings were cut short by her husband’s inane chuckling. 

 

 

“No, no Molly dear. It's not Zabini. You won't be able to guess who the gentleman is, so I shall tell you. It's Neville Longbottom. "Arthur announced to the astonishment of his wife and children. 

 

 

“Longbottom? Augusta’s grandson? The man set to inherit our family home when you pass away?” Mrs Weasley's voice had raised to such a high octave, that the shriek she emitted was ear splitting. 

 

 

“But why have you invited him?” Ginevra asked her father, for the Longbottom name was not often mentioned favourably in the household due to a magical contract that had been drawn up by their ancestors that entailed Mr Weasley's property to Mr Longbottom in the event of his death. 

 

 

“He wrote me a letter, saying he wanted to end the family feud, he wanted a union between the Longbottom and Weasley families that will settle the dispute once and for all. I decided to indulge his effort.” Mr Weasley's eyes twinkled with amusement and it was clear that he found the whole scenario to be hilarious. For her part, Mrs Weasley just nodded tersely though she was somewhat mollified by Mr Longbottom’s obvious intent to marry one of her children, so she felt it best to hold her tongue, for now. 

 

 

A few days after the breakfast announcement, came the arrival of Neville Longbottom. He was a stout man, of average appearance and an awkward mannerism. His light brown hair had been cropped in a haphazard fashion that only exacerbated the plump pudginess of his rounded face. 

 

 

“What a charming place.” He declared profusely as he entered the threshold. This might have flattered Mrs Weasley but instead, given the entail, only served to anger her further as though Mr Longbottom was sizing up his property. Neville, however, was utterly oblivious to the tension he'd stirred and carried on complimenting his surroundings blithely. 

 

 

“I noticed you had some shrivelfrig growing in the corner there. With a bit of pruning it could be used in potions,, not that I'm any good at that sort of thing, much to my grandmother’s despair. I'm a herbologist actually, I even supply plants to Severus Snape himself. Now he is a potions expert.” This was uttered without a pause for breath, leaving the Weasley family at a loss of words. Unfortunately, sentences of this same vain were heard increasingly over the course of the next few days; and it was rare for the words Herbology, Severus Snape or grandmother not to enter his speech. 

 

 

It was during one such speech, that the Weasley family had unfortunately grown accustomed to, that Fredrick and George had had enough of his ramblings and proceeded to interrupt at random conjectures. 

 

 

“.. It had always been said that my grandmother is a remarkable witch. She's always been very determined,” Neville gave an awkward chuckle at this pause in his seemingly endless monologue, “Of course she's very powerful too and extraordinarily clever. She's actually good friends with Dumbledore. It's nice having her live so close to me, practically neighbours, as she's always coming with great advice for me…” 

 

 

“Hey did you hear the news?” Fredrick startled his bored siblings with his sudden announcement. 

 

 

“Quality Quidditch are having a sale on broomsticks. Angeline told us.” Chimed in George. 

 

 

“We should go see if they've got any cleansweeps or even an old nimbus at a decent price.” Fredrick rolled off in excitement, oblivious to the affronted look that Neville had been sporting since their interruption. 

 

 

“Excellent idea Fred. We could even go visit Remus and Sirius whilst we are in London. It's been ages since we visited Grimmauld Place.” The twins both turned to the other Weasley youngsters, hopeful for a day trip to Diagon Alley and spurred on by their hidden agenda of visiting Harry's godfathers and gaining some new illicit knowledge and pranks. 

 

 

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had been close friends with Harry's parents and the Weasley's, and it was fair to say that they were all a part of the extended family. Though that did not mean that Mrs Weasley approved of the encouragement the twins received from the older men in their mischief. 

 

 

Though Neville appeared put out by this new plan, he was a somewhat cheerful sort, determined to use his time wisely in gaining Harry's affections. Originally he'd had his sights set on Ginevra, however that hope had been dashed when he'd been informed of her potential relationship with Zabini, and so he'd had to change his goal slightly. Neville reasoned that Harry whilst still a honorary Weasley, was significantly the best looking out of the remaining clan, not to mention that had a more moderate personality compared to the others and some of his own personal wealth. If not for the fact that Ginevra was female, and Neville did slightly prefer that sex, Harry would have been the obvious choice to start with. It was therefore imperative that he was able to claim his desired hand and so he began wooing in the only way he knew how. Talking about his plants, his grandmother and Severus Snape. 

 

 

Harry bore this to the best of his ability; and though he had been teased by his friends Seamus and Dean for being ‘saintly’ he was indeed just a man and he struggled with his compulsion to just slap Neville. It was a battle that taxed him greatly which only made the sight that stood before him all the more welcome. Fredrick and George had bounded up to one of their close friends and flirtations, a man by the name of Lee Jordan. Next to him, stood a handsome man with golden hair and a roguish smile that drew Harry instantly. Ambling closer, introductions were made, though Harry could only pay attention to the mature beauty in front of him. 

 

 

“Gilderoy Lockhart at your service,” the man winked in a lavish manner, an act the man knew would make his compatriots swoon. Harry blushed under the attention, an act that caused Neville to silently seethe and urge the others upon their way to the Black residence. 

 

 

This endeavour was to no avail however, and conversation turned to a spirited discussion of the upcoming Zabini ball. Harry seized his opportunity to ask Lockhart if he would be in attendance, determined in his bravery. 

 

 

“Wild dragons wouldn’t keep me away.” Declared Lockhart robustly, and Harry’s face filled with a pleasurable warmth that only dissipated with an unfortunate arrival of Draco Malfoy. 

 

 

The proud blond stood imperiously, his expression guarded as he surveyed the scene. For only a brief instance did his eyes betray emotion as his gaze fell upon Lockhart. This was quickly stifled and once more the pale face become a blank canvas; an ice cold façade. The whole thing was over in the blink of an eye, only Lockhart and Harry noticing the lapse. Harry was perturbed by the whole interlude, confused as to why Lockhart deserved the vehemence that had tinged Malfoy’s glare. He made a note to ask the gentleman later. 

 

 

His speculation was cut short by the arrival of Blaise Zabini. Harry was gratified to see how both his sister and Blaise enthused joy at greeting each other. He glanced towards Malfoy to see how the snobbish man reacted and was surprised to find that cool grey eyes met his. Caught in his observation, Draco nodded wordlessly towards Harry in greeting before directing a hard look at Lockhart and summoning Zabini to leave with him. 

 

 

Much to Neville’s consternation, for even he could not be oblivious to the undeniable camaraderie between Harry and Lockhart, both Lee Jordan and Lockhart were invited to join the others on their venture to Grimmauld Place. It was having a pleasurable companion to walk with that gave Harry a new sense of happiness as the group made their way through London. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7 

 

 

“Well he certainly thinks he’s charming, doesn’t he Remus?” Sirius commented to his partner and godson, indicating his head slightly in the direction of Lockhart who was telling a loud story to the amusement of the twins. 

 

 

“Now, no need to be judgemental Sirius. You’d never like any of our Harry’s suitors.” Remus chastised Sirius gently, causing a faint blush to appear on Harry’s cheeks. 

 

 

“Hey, I’d like a suitor if they were worthy of our Harry. Still, this one is better than that over eager twerp.” Sirius proclaimed staunchly, causing Harry to worry that Neville had overheard. Thankfully it appeared that he hadn’t, he was too busy sulking in a corner sending glowers at Lockhart who waxed on emphatically. 

 

 

“So he’s a little enthusiastic about herbology, that’s not a crime is it? Least he has an interest that isn’t quidditch or motorcycles. Unlike some people I could mention.” Remus glared at Sirius pointedly, and Harry struggled not to let out a soft laugh of amusement. His godparents were always like this, their bickering softened by their obvious love. 

 

 

“Enthusiastic? Why he’s duller than a History of Magic lesson.” Seeing his partner’ disapproval, Sirius carried hastily on, “Anyway, enough of the maudlin. The twins tell me that Ginevra has an admirer. Come Harry, tell us what he’s like?” 

 

 

Taking up his cue for the subject change, Harry delved into his description of Blaise Zabini, describing him as a pleasant wizard with good family, wealth and status though a poor choice in friends. Remus raised his eyebrows at that and motioned for Harry to explain. 

 

 

“He’s friends with Draco Malfoy and Harry doesn’t like him.” Chimed in Fredrick from behind, startling the trio who hadn’t realised his presence. Sure enough, his counterpart followed a beat later. 

 

 

“Hard not to, the guys a git. Snubbing our Harry like that.” George joined cheerfully. 

 

 

“Malfoy? I remember that name. Think I’m related to the family, though hard to recall when your name is burnt off the tapestry.” Sirius said sadly. It was easy to forget at times that his godfather had once been a member of the upper echelons of pure blood society, before he’d been disowned for his relationship with Remus. His family’s condemnation was clearly hard for the man, even if he didn’t allow it to show. 

 

 

“Yeah you would be related, he’s a pure blood elite is that Malfoy. Not bad looking either. Shame amount his personality.” Fredrick joked, blithely unaware of the embarrassed flush that was currently occupying Harry’s face. 

 

 

“Yeah, he said that Harry wasn’t handsome enough to dance with, merely tolerable.” George finished for his twin, guaranteeing his adoptive brother’s mortification. 

 

 

“Well Malfoy is clearly a fool or blind.” Lockhart interrupted with a salacious wink in Harry’s direction. 

 

 

“Malfoy? Protégé to Severus Snape? He was here?” Neville asked excitedly. it was clear that the conversation was no longer private and Harry sighed as the topic opened up to the room. 

 

 

“Yeah, he was the blond guy.” Ronald mumbled around a scone he was eating, crumbs falling deftly to the floor. 

 

“Oh well, I’ll have to introduce myself at Zabini’s ball. His master is also mine.” Neville declared self-importantly. 

 

 

“Erm… I’m not sure that’s the best idea. He’s not the most friendly individual.” Harry tried to explain to no avail, Neville was stubbornly insistent that Malfoy would be gratified to hear from a fellow student of Snape. 

 

 

Admitting defeat, Harry sighed and turned to his other, more pleasant companion. Lockhart handed him a goblet of wine and a sympathetic smile. 

 

 

“So you’re acquainted with Malfoy?” The sandy blond smirked with a roguish twist of his lips. 

 

 

“Unfortunately.” Harry couldn’t help his snap retort. 

 

 

“I see you have.” Lockhart chuckled, “I actually grew up with Draco Malfoy. His father was a good friend of mine. That was before.. well, when his father died things changed.” 

 

 

“Oh? I saw him glare at you earlier. What happened between you?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

 

 

“I’m surprised you caught that. Draco was well taught in keeping his emotions under wraps from a young age.” 

 

 

“Yes, he is pretty cold. I don’t get how such a warm person as Zabini could be friends with him.” Harry puzzled, pleased to have a confidante. 

 

 

“Oh, Draco can be plenty nice to people if it’s worth his while. Learnt that from his mother. She has always been the social belle of the ball. Beautiful, unattainable and a veritable ice queen. She looks down upon anyway not in the pure blood elite, if you’re not one of those, then you’re not worth her time.” Lockhart spoke bitterly, and Harry felt a surge of anger towards the Malfoys for their superiority complex. 

 

 

“What happened? Why did they turn their back on you?” Harry asked, unable to quench his curiosity. 

 

 

“Oh it is a woeful tale, surely you don’t want to hear it?” Lockhart pouted flirtatiously before taking a swig from his goblet and carrying on with a vociferous laugh, “Oh very well. As I was saying, I’m quite a few years older than Draco and his father Lucius had always seen me as his first son. Of course I wasn’t related by blood so Draco had no fear that I’d take his inheritance or anything like that. Still, Draco grew up to spurn all my advances of friendship. Partly out of jealousy, partly his mother Narcissa influencing him I’d wager.” 

 

 

“Why would she not want you two to be friends? Surely if his father saw you as family, then she’d want her son to get along with you?” Harry asked puzzled, his adoptive Weasley family had never made him feel unwelcome. Though he supposed if he thought about it, Ronald had had his brief flares of resentment as he’d been the youngest son before Harry had come along. 

 

 

“In her eyes I’d never be good enough to associate with the Malfoys. She’d found out that I had a distant squib cousin and tried to get me shunned from the upper echelons of pure blood society.” Lockhart proclaimed bitterly and Harry struggled to stifle his inner rage at such treatment. 

 

 

“That’s not the worst of what she did. After Lucius died, I came to the funeral to pay my respects and she was there. She propositioned me and I refused.” Harry gasped at this in astonishment and it appeared to spur Lockhart on; “How could I consider my late friend’s widow? Well she didn’t like that. Being rejected by someone of my ‘inferior blood’. She took her revenge and tried to get my books removed from Wizarding stores. Draco set up a whole campaign saying that my books were plagiarised.” 

 

 

“How could they do that to you? What happened with your books? People need to know what they’ve done to you.” Harry fought his undeniable urge to charge off on his self-anointed mission to redeem the honour of Lockhart. 

 

 

“It’s fine. I could never betray the memory of Lucius. And my books are published, just not under my name. I still get the royalty cheques though and it’s enough to live on so don’t worry. You should read them sometime, I write about my adventures that I’ve had. Fighting vampires and inferi.” 

 

 

“I would love to read your books.” Harry replied happily, though he could not help his silent vow to make Malfoy pay for his treatment of Lockhart. 

 

 

The time spent at his godfathers’ place flew by happily and all too soon the extended Weasley family had to return to the burrow. Though this was not as an unhappy occurrence that it could have been for Harry, as he had extracted a promise from Lockhart that he’d attend the Zabini ball. Furthering this joy was his godfathers’ proposed plans of taking Harry on a Wizard’s Trail in the summer; Harry often missed Remus and Sirius so spending an entire month with them exploring sounded perfect. The only marring features in Harry’s current life were the simmering rage he felt towards Malfoy and the ever irksome presence of Neville Longbottom. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8 

 

 

The ballroom at Zabini Hall had been made up majestically. Gold and silver organza ribbons streamed from one chandelier to the next, creating a beautiful and billowing backdrop for the enchanted candles that floated high above the guests’ head, illuminating the cavernous room dramatically. It was almost breath-taking, the atmosphere produced a mysterious and seductive allure with the refined splendour and intimate lighting. 

 

 

The Weasleys were more than excited to be there, Mrs Weasley had high hopes that this romantic setting would be enough to push her agenda of bringing her daughter and Zabini closer together. It seemed she would get her wish, as Zabini had asked Ginevra to dance almost immediately and had hung by her side for the remainder of the evening. Now Harry was of course beyond pleased for his sister, however he’d not been there more than half an hour when he came to the conclusion that his dreams for the night had been crushed. Harry blamed Malfoy. It was clear that Lockhart had not come because of the blond being in attendance. Harry could not fault Lockhart for that; who’d want to confront a man who’d made your life hell? Nope, Harry’s disappointment was entirely Malfoy’s doing and he could not help the scowl that crept upon his face when the gentleman appeared in his eye line, which was an all too frequent occurrence. To make matters worse, having no competition in the form of Lockhart to ward him off, Neville had glued himself to Harry’s side for the evening. Harry had had to suffer through more than one speech about the fascinating properties of plants and was contemplating whether he could get away with gifting the man a pot of Devil’s Snare (which thanks to Neville he knew all about) and feigning ignorance when it strangled him. 

 

 

The murder plot had almost been planned out when Neville had ceased his incessant droning and had whispered excitedly. 

 

“Oh. He’s there. He’s there. Do you think I should just go up and introduce myself? I hope I look alright. Snape talks about him all the time. It would be an insult if I didn’t acknowledge that. Wish me luck.” 

 

 

Harry watched in horror as Neville determinedly strode towards Malfoy. Deep inside him, he couldn’t suppress a little glee at watching Malfoy be subjected to the overeager imbecile, though Harry wouldn’t admit to that of course. If only he could get closer he thought to hear the conversation. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring the twins’ extendable ears. Still the expressions that littered Malfoy’s usually placid face were more than worth it. 

 

 

Amusingly, Harry saw horror, disgust, fear and anger play across the aristocratic face. Though it turned quickly blank apart from a disdainful smirk, and Neville withered on obliviously happy, not noticing the man’s clear reluctance to speak. 

 

 

A few moments later, Harry regretted his decision to stay and watch the fiasco. Neville bounded over to where he was stood, filling Harry with a mounting horror, holding out his hand in offer of a dance. Harry grimaced as that clammy hand enveloped his, but did not have the heart to refuse. One could not kick down the wizard when he appeared to act so much like a puppy. 

 

 

Much to Harry’s mortification, Neville’s overeager and clumsy mannerisms extended to dancing. He struggled to mimic any kind of rhythm or timing and his movements were sluggish and inelegant. To make matters worse, he fervently and loudly complimented Harry on his technique, causing the other dancers to look curiously his way. In short, a spectacle was made and Harry sighed in relief when he was finally able to sit down, even if he was accompanied by his shadow. 

 

 

Soon enough, Harry began to look around the ballroom for any excuse to leave his current company, there can only be so many times one was able to listen to an explanation of how Mandrake root could be used in potions and not want to petrify the speaker. Before an embolism could occur, a saviour appeared in the form of a request of a dance and Harry acceptedly immediately without a second glance. He was shocked then to find that his dance partner had strikingly blond hair and tempestuously grey eyes. 

 

 

Malfoy moved with admirable elegance as he steered Harry away from Neville with only a small smirk in the latter’s direction. His hands were smooth and soft, cool to the touch as they clasped Harry’s confidently. It was difficult not to notice the appealing grace with which the gentleman danced, nor was it possible to dismiss the perfect synchronisation of the two gentlemen as they journeyed through the waltz. Used to small chatter with his dance partners, Harry could not help but find the silence between them awkward and determinedly cleared his throat to begin small talk. 

 

 

“You move well. I thought you’d be adverse to dancing.” Harry murmured as Malfoy swayed him around smoothly. 

 

“I’m not adverse to dancing; I enjoy it with the right partner.” Malfoy replied causing Harry to flush as he struggled to come up with an answer given the implications. Taking note of this, Malfoy spoke again, “If we are to make small talk, I suppose it would be only right to ask you if you like quidditch and if so which team you support?” 

 

 

Thankful to be asked a direct question, Harry answered promptly; “I do like quidditch. The Weasleys support Chudley Cannons. Do you have a favourite?” 

 

 

“The Falmouth Falcons. Are you not allowed to have your own favourite? You said the Weasleys support Chudley, you didn’t say you liked them.” 

 

 

Harry flushed with annoyance at the implied insult to his adoptive family; “I am a Weasley. What they like, I like.” 

 

 

Malfoy snorted in dismissal to that declaration but remained silent, and Harry remained fuming. How dare Malfoy suggest anything negative about the Weasley family; not when he did not understand the first thing about having a family, if the way he’d treated Lockhart was any indication. 

 

 

Mercifully the dance ended without another argument, as they had both kept silent, and they parted ways. Harry was relieved to see his friend Hermione talking to Neville and so he didn’t have to be wary of the unwanted company. They seemed to be in an animated discussion, and a small smile flittered across Harry’s face as he realised that his dear friend had always been interested in potions theory and consumed any new magical knowledge ravenously. 

 

 

Satisfied that he would not have to fend off any more advances tonight, Harry joined the corner where the Weasley family were congregating. Mrs Weasley spoke excitedly as she watched Ginevra and Zabini dance together once more. She seemed assured that the two would wed soon enough, and it did seem likely with how smitten they both were. The matriarch waxed on about the virtues of a spring wedding and how they should host it outdoors at the burrow, she declared that Ginevra would look stunning in her wedding gown and how lilac would suit perfectly. On and on she spoke of the wedding plans and Harry cringed as he worried that other guests at the party would overhear. It was very presumptuous to speak so loudly of a wedding when a proposal and not yet been made. His adoptive mother would not listen to reason however, and Harry could only feverishly hope that no one overheard. 

 

 

The whole evening had left Harry disconcerted. He’d had high hopes for the evening; he thought he’d have chance to talk to Lockhart some more. Sadly that hadn’t happened, instead Harry had been besieged by Neville and danced with by Malfoy. Though he was happy for the growing relationship between Zabini and his sister, he could not help but worry that Mrs Weasley had been overheard and the consequences of this. All in all, Harry had been uncertain about the evening that had promised such joy, and he had a feeling that there’d be unwelcome consequences. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9 

 

 

The first of these unwelcome consequences occurred shortly after breakfast the next day. Harry should have suspected something was afoot when he arrived down at the table to find Mrs Weasley and Neville in collusion with one another. Still, it was easy to get distracted with the talk of the previous evenings activities. 

 

 

Ginevra was beside herself in happiness and confided in Harry proclaiming; “He is such an amazing dancer, he said he’d come visit us next weekend, do you think I have a chance Harry?” 

 

 

“Yes of course you do Ginny. He clearly adores you and so he should.” Harry tried to contain the twinge of envy he felt stab his heart. He wished that he had someone to love and he sighed. 

 

 

Clearly sensing his melancholy mood, Ginevra changed the subject as she said teasingly; “I’m not the only one with an admirer. I could scarcely believe it, Malfoy danced with you. I asked Zabini and he said Malfoy never willingly dances with anyone.” 

 

 

Harry ignored the flutter that he felt from hearing this and instead remarked bitterly; “Malfoy would be wasting his attentions on me though I doubt he has any, I’m merely a half blood after all. I can’t stand the man.” 

 

 

“Harry you don’t know him enough to make such an opinion. Zabini says he is a kind and generous man.” Ginevra chastised gently, shocked by his vehement outburst. 

 

 

“Zabini cannot know Malfoy well enough then.” Harry retorted and proceeded to tell his sister all that Lockhart had divulged. He watched in amusement as her face expressed her horrified outrage. 

 

“No, I can’t believe it. He couldn’t treat someone so callously, surely there’s more to it?” 

 

 

“Oh I believe that Malfoy is every bit as vindictive as that. Dancing with him was torture if I’m honest.” Harry shook his head, trying to clear it of his venomous thoughts as he could not imagine anything worse than having to spend a moment longer in the man’s company. 

 

 

Harry soon regretted his cavalier thoughts when it became all too apparent that there had been an ambush planned after the breakfast table had been cleared. The twins had left first, proclaiming that they had some experiments to attend to, they were shortly followed by Percy who wanted to carry on studying a new book on wand movement, and then finally Mr Weasley left for his office to study Muggle items. The table quickly dwindling down, Mrs Weasley summoned Ronald to accompany her in the garden for de-gnoming, insisting that he; “Stopped eating for one minute of the day and helped out around the house.” 

 

A short while after both she and Ronald left, Mrs Weasley came back with a manic gleam in her eye that made Harry more than a little nervous. 

 

 

“Ginny dear, will you come here one second? Neville would like to speak with Harry alone.” Mrs Weasley announced grandly, and Harry struggled to gulp back his panic. 

 

 

“Surely she doesn’t need to leave. Surely Neville can talk in front of her.” Harry desperately protested though he knew that it was a futile effort. What Mrs Weasley wanted, Mrs Weasley got. His sister shot him a sympathetic look, kissing his cheek briefly before following her mother out of the room. Harry held his breath, he knew this wouldn’t be pretty. 

 

 

“Harry, it’s okay to be nervous. I am too.” Neville spoke with a buoyant smile as he neared Harry. Deciding that it would be for the best if he kept silent throughout this ordeal, Harry waited for Neville to continue. 

 

 

“You must know why I wish to speak with you privately. I’ve hardly kept my feelings unknown towards you. I like you Harry, and I think even my grandmother and Snape would think you worthy enough to be my spouse. With our wedding, the Weasley and Longbottom families will once again be united.” 

 

 

“Neville, stop I can’t marry you.” Harry began before he was interrupted by a clammy hand clasping his. 

 

 

“Oh don’t worry about being a half blood. I’m sure my grandmother won’t mind. Your father was respectable and it’s clear your magic is strong. Don’t worry, you have many strengths to make up for your short comings. You’ll make me a perfect spouse, Mrs Weasley agrees.” 

 

 

“Neville. I do not want to marry you.” Harry exclaimed impatiently before exiting the kitchen rather dramatically. Neville stood thunderstruck, he’d been convinced that Harry would have said yes immediately, still he figured that the wizard was probably just feeling inadequate about his inferior heritage and just needed reassuring that it wouldn’t be a problem. With this in mind, Neville smiled when Mrs Weasley asked how it had gone and explained the situation. 

 

 

The matriarch was poleaxed. She knew Harry wouldn’t say no if he didn’t mean it, he had never been particularly self-conscious about his blood status for that to get in the way of his desires. Thus she did the only thing she could do, she bellowed for Mr Weasley. 

 

 

The burrow was in bedlam. Total chaos reigned supreme as Mrs Weasley yelled at Harry and other unfortunate bystanders. Sensing that it may be best to lie low for a while, Neville took off for the day, indicating that he may be staying at the Leaky Cauldron until things had fully settled. 

 

 

“Arthur, tell Harry that he must marry Neville. He’d do it if you said to. He’s just being obstinate as per usual.” Mrs Weasley demanded from her husband. 

 

 

It surprised her to realise that her husband did not agree at all with her viewpoint as he calmly stated. “I’d rather not have a fool as a son-in-law Molly. Anyone can see that their magic is completely incompatible. No Harry should not marry Neville if he doesn’t want to.” 

 

 

Her husband’s firm stance on the scenario made Mrs Weasley sag in defeat. It was rare for him to be adamant on any topic, and the fact that he was proved how pointless it would be to argue. Mrs Weasley resorted to digs and subtle rebukes that left Harry feeling more and more miserable. 

 

 

There was yet more misery to come and it came in the form of some rather shocking news from an unexpected visitor. 

 

 

The frizzy brunette hair was always the first thing Harry saw when he greeted his dear friend Hermione Granger. She paced anxiously in his bedroom, her usually warm brown eyes were pale with nerves, and Harry wished for her to get whatever was troubling her off his chest. 

 

 

“Hermione calm down, what’s wrong?” Harry asked wanting to push her forward with the conversation, he’d had an headache the past few days in the aftermath of his misdealing with Neville and his patience suffered because of it. 

 

 

The petite woman steeled herself with a deep intake of breath. “Harry, please don’t be mad. I’ve accepted Neville’s marriage proposal.” 

 

 

“You’re joking. Surely? Why would you do that?” Harry gaped in disbelief, he was certain this had to be a prank set up by the twins. 

 

 

“I know he was courting you, I’m sorry but he asked and I.. I accepted Harry. I’m a terrible friend.” Hermione appeared to be on the verge of tears from her admission, and Harry rushed to comfort her. 

 

 

“You’re not a terrible friend. I couldn’t accept him anyway. But why did you? You don’t love him? It’s not a good match.” It was puzzling that his fiercely intelligent friend would stoop so low to marry such an odiously foolish man. 

 

 

“I don’t have much choice. I’m a muggle-born. Not many pure blood wizards would even deign to associate with someone of my heritage. I’m not like you, I don’t have a vault in Gringotts full of gold. If I’m to be able to conduct research I’m going to have to have a higher class of connections. A match with Neville can give me that. He knows Severus Snape after all.” The resignation in her voice made Harry’s heart break, he knew despite the strong face his friend presented that she was far from happy, but her points did make sense. 

 

After a tearful goodbye, that felt to Harry like he was sentencing his friend to her death, he sank down upon his bed and pondered the shocking news. He’d assured Hermione that he would visit as frequently as he could, though he couldn’t help but worry about her emotional wellbeing in the meantime. 

 

 

It was inevitable that when Mrs Weasley found out about Neville’s engagement to Hermione that there would be a catastrophic eruption of great magnitude. The matriarch cursed Hermione’s name and would not bear to hear Neville’s in her presence. Of course with no viable output to her rage, it was directed at Harry in a passive aggressive manner. 

 

 

They say that bad things come in threes, and shortly after the announcement, there came the final occurrence. This came in the form of a letter from Pansy Parkinson that was addressed to Ginevra. 

 

 

As had become Ginevra’s custom when receiving correspondence from the tenants of Zabini Hall, she took the letter to her room, inviting Harry to join her as she read. It was rather fortuitous that Mrs Weasley was too engaged ranting to the Lovegood family to notice the two of them absconding to read a letter she’d surely be interested in. 

 

 

Harry watched Ginny’s face crumple as she absorbed the contents of the letter. When she had finished, she handed it to him silently, unable to speak due to her devastation. 

 

 

Dear Ginevra, 

 

 

I’m writing to let you know that Daphne and I won’t be able to make any more engagements with you for a good while. We are leaving Zabini Hall for the time being and perhaps the foreseeable future. Blaise is with Draco currently visiting Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire and we plan to join him there to visit our good friend Millicent Bulstrode. I’ve not spoke much about her to you, but it is my firm wish that I see Blaise happily settled with her. She has been a dear friend of the family for a long time and I know she will suit him well. I am sorry to miss your company, you have been a good friend. Perhaps if you are in the county you could pay us a visit some time? 

 

 

Best wishes, 

 

 

Pansy 

 

 

 

“What utter rubbish Ginny. Pansy just wants Blaise to marry Millicent so that she has more leverage for getting Malfoy to marry her. She wants to keep it in her small circle of friends. Don’t listen to her, he clearly likes you.” Harry growled angrily, wanting to hex the snobbish woman. 

 

 

“You think so?” She asked in a hopeful tone before doubt clouded her eyes. “Still, how could I be with someone whose friends don’t approve?” 

 

 

“Easy.” Harry announced. “You don’t care. If you love each other then you be together. It’s as simple as that.” 

 

 

“I really hope he does love me Harry.” Was all that Ginny said. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10 

 

 

Christmas at the Weasley’s home was not as ferociously cheerful as it usually was. Mrs Weasley, though not knowing the contents of the letter, had come to realise that the tenants of Zabini Hall had left possibly indefinitely. This derailed her plans of a wedding and she took the opportunity to mourn the loss of such an occasion, much to Ginny’s mortification. In the midst of worrying about his sister, Harry worried about his friend Hermione and wondered how she was settling in to married life. 

 

 

Still joy could always be found in the most benign of places. The twins had taken it upon themselves to plan an elaborate prank on Percy that involved gifted him a writing set that unfortunately included ink that vanished after a few days. Percy was furious and refused to come out of his room for several days after his ‘very important, possible ground breaking notes on wand movements’ had vanished without a trace. Even Mrs Weasley could not contain a laugh at the later impressions the twins enacted of Percy’s speech on how delicate and refined his wand movements were and that that only came with vigorous practice. 

 

 

Harry also had enough source of happiness; he could always rely on his godparents to bring cheer to his life with their well-thought out words of comfort. Remus and Sirius had spoken of their plans; wondering if they should go to Stonehenge for the Beltane festival, and Harry could not be more excited for the trip, though it was a few months yet. 

 

 

The decorations were soon taken down however, and with that occurrence came the cold and harsh weather of winter. Lockhart had become a frequent visitor to the burrow, and Harry enjoyed his company immensely. He was loud, flamboyant and could distract any amount of woe from a melancholy individual. Yes, Lockhart chased away bad moods with over enthusiastic cheerfulness and flirtatious banter. Harry enjoyed the serious conversations between them the most though, and as the time drew near of when he would visit Hermione at Neville’s abode, he confided his worries. 

 

 

Lockhart turned out to be an excellent source of information on what he might expect from his visit to Snape Manor. The Potions Master was described to be a genius though acerbic and cruel in nature. He doted upon his godson Draco and had been close friends with Lucius, fighting with him in the war that had sadly cost the Malfoy patriarch his life. It had long been speculated that Snape’s ward Astoria was to be engaged to Draco, that both families wanted a union of such close magic. Lockhart admitted that he’d not met her, Snape had never approved of him, though he’d heard rumours that she was a sallow and petulant girl. Harry secretly hoped that that was the case, for Draco Malfoy could only deserve someone so spoilt. 

 

 

The time to visit his friend finally arrived and Harry was admittedly more nervous from the knowledge Lockhart had imparted. Snape had been described as frightfully sour, and Harry did not know if he’d be able to hold his tongue. Sometimes his anger got the best of him. He’d have to keep his temper in check, he wouldn’t want to cause issues for his friend. 

 

 

The portkey activated soon enough, and Harry clasped the hair brush he’d been given, feeling the unmistakable tug of nausea as he was deposited on an expanse of greenery that was presided over by a magnificent Manor House. Harry looked up, relieved to see his female friend above him as he sprawled inelegantly from his poor landing. A small smile lined her face in amusement as she helped him to his feet, it was fairly typical for him to make a fool of himself; he was far too clumsy. 

 

 

Once he’d been righted, his companions seemed keen to head on in ushering him to their home. He watched curiously to how Hermione interacted with her husband, and was satisfied that she appeared happy for the most part. Though Neville’s conversation was often dull and far too enamoured with the potions master; he did treat her well and she had unfettered access to the Manor’s library that housed volume upon volume of books. 

 

 

Soon after his arrival to their home, once he’d been sequestered into a pleasant guest room, he was informed that Snape had invited them to dinner at the manor. His friend’s home was a cottage on the grounds so Harry was happy to oblige the meeting since they would not have to travel far. He did not fancy portkeying or apparating any time soon after his experience earlier. 

 

 

Harry did not know what to wear. He hadn’t packed too many formal outfits as his friend Hermione had always been happy for him to be casually attired so he didn’t see the need. Realising that he had no other option, he wore the jumper that Mrs Weasley had knitted him for Christmas, the dark maroon was a decent enough colour he surmised. 

 

 

He was a little apprehensive about his outfit choice, especially when he saw the soft blue dress that Hermione wore, but his friend soon grew impatient with his fussing. 

 

 

“Honestly Harry, you look fine. Snape isn’t that bothered with appearances.” She had retorted after he’d asked whether he should transfigure some of his clothes into something more formal. When he pointed out that she was wearing a nice dress, she quickly blushed and remained tight lipped for the short journey there. 

 

 

Severus Snape presented a truly formidable figure in his austere black robes. His hair was also jet black and his pale skin created a dramatic contrast that only added to the sharpness of his features. He was not a particularly good looking man by any means; though he did command a striking presence that could not be ignored. In any room he entered, all eyes would be on him, of that he was assured. 

 

 

Every word he used was measured, deliberately aimed to convey his point with as little compassion for the listener as possible. The man did not mince words, he saw no need for false pleasantries and his acerbic wit made him few friends. 

 

 

Upon meeting Harry, the formidable wizard glared at him coldly before commenting dryly with a sinister smirk. 

 

 

“Ah so this is the famed Harry Potter. I’ve heard all about you from Longbottom and his new wife.” 

 

 

Harry wasn’t sure how to reply to the sarcastic drawl and was fortunate that he did not have to answer before Neville jumped in with nervous exuberance. 

 

 

“All good stuff Harry don’t worry.” He tittered with obvious nerves. 

 

 

“Hmmm, yes. I hear you rejected a proposal from Neville. Think you’re better than him I suppose?” Snape remarked scathingly. 

 

 

“No. Not at all.” Harry stumbled over his words, flushing in embarrassment, “I just didn’t well love him.” 

 

 

“Love?” Snape snorted with disdain, “You think marriage is about love? It’s about status, security and providing heirs. You’d have done well with Longbottom. I doubt many a pure blood would want someone of your status.” 

 

 

“I respectfully disagree sir. Marriage should be foremost about love.” Harry found his courage and spoke his mind without thinking, Hermione shook her head disapprovingly whilst Neville looked like he would faint with fright. 

 

 

For his part Snape just sneered. “The young are always foolishly idealistic on such matters.” Before he turned to Neville and asked him on the course progress of his plants in the greenhouse. 

 

 

Neville assured him that the plants were coming along nicely and that they’d be ready in a few days at the most. Snape gave his first small smile at the news. “Excellent. My godson is coming over shortly and he’ll want to use them for his potion making.” 

 

 

Harry immediately filled with dread, and prayed that Severus Snape had another godson he didn’t know about. Sadly, that was not the case and Harry was informed that the odious blond would unfortunately be arriving tomorrow evening. He could only hope that the visit would be short, lest Harry truly lost his temper and caused a scene. 

 

 

If there was one thing that Harry had learned by now, it was that fortune never favoured him. That was why he was completely unsurprised by the summons to dinner at Snape Manor in honour of his godson’s arrival the following morning. It was also why Harry was unfazed by the unlucky choice of seating that required him to be sat directly opposite the aforementioned prat. Still, though his bad luck was expected, he was going to complain about it. 

 

 

“I know he’s insufferable Harry, but must you send him glares every two minutes.” Came the reproach from Hermione who was sat to his right. Harry flinched at her voice, struck out of his reverie that included the blond snob and a small amount of violence. It appeared that Malfoy noticed Harry’s startled reaction, for he smirked mockingly. 

 

 

A scowl returned in full vengeance as he picked at his food. Malfoy had been basking in Snape’s compliments the entire evening, inflating his already full ego, if the way that Malfoy’s chest had swelled with arrogance like a peacock was any indication. The scenario was beyond hideous to Harry, especially as Snape relished in his systematic cataloguing Harry’s flaws. Much to Malfoy’s amusement. Still, Harry took vindictive glee in observing the future Mrs Malfoy and he surmised that she was just the wife that he deserved. Astoria neither had looks or personality to recommend her; she had a frail body and a sickly complexion. For the most part she remained silently taciturn, and only deigned to mutter petulantly when something displeased her. Yes, Harry was happy that Malfoy was arranged to marry such a woman and he smiled internally that Pansy for all her posturing would not be successful in her ambitions. 

 

 

After the odious dinner had finished, Harry sought to leave but was instead obliged to stay a few hours and make conversation. Fortunately a wizard by the name of Viktor Krum had joined Malfoy for his stay at Snape Manor, and had proved to be an excellent companion. It was determined that Krum was a distant cousin of Malfoy’s and sometimes accompanied him on visits to Snape Manor to get potions for his quidditch related injuries. 

 

 

Upon hearing about the other’s enthusiasm for quidditch, the two got in to an avid discussion on games they had seen. They compared the seekers of their favourite teams, raucously disparaging the others. Their laughter drew Malfoy over and he slunk up behind them with an eerie grace that Harry had to admire. 

 

 

“If you’re talking about Huddleston, he couldn’t catch the snitch if his life depended on it.” Malfoy drawled lazily. 

 

 

“So he’s had a bad season. His agility and instincts are usually top notch.” Harry proclaimed hotly. 

 

 

“No need to get heated gentlemen. We will see come autumn how he does.” Krum jumped in placatingly, his Bulgarian accent thick compared to Malfoy’s snobbish elocution. 

 

 

“Potter here can’t help but get sensitive if you mention his favourite team. The Chudley Canons wasn’t it?” Malfoy mocked with a smirk. 

 

Harry saw red as he retorted, “Like the Falcons are any better. You’re just jealous that you don’t have an eighth the talent Huddleston has.” 

 

 

Instantly Harry regretted his outburst, this was the opposite of his intentions for the evening. Fuming, he levelled the blame at Malfoy’s feet, the blond knew how to push all his buttons. Only moments before, Krum and Harry had been openly mocking each other for their choice of teams in a less than diplomatic manner. Introduce Malfoy into the mix and Harry was spitting with rage. 

 

 

“I assure you, I am more than satisfied with my talents.” Malfoy smiled smugly and Harry wanted to wipe the expression of his face. 

 

 

“Care to test that claim Malfoy? Unless you’re scared?” 

 

 

“You wish. Just name the time and place.” Malfoy glared with a challenge in his strikingly grey eyes. The two had clearly forgotten about the presence of Krum and the others, for they both startled at the cool voice of Snape. Realising that he’d become inappropriately close towards the prat during their exchange, Harry slunk sheepishly away, though not before seeing Hermione shake her head chidingly. 

 

 

“What are you discussing?” His imperious voice directed the question towards Malfoy with curiosity. 

 

 

“Quidditch.” Malfoy shrugged with an unconcerned air. 

 

 

“Ah that waste of time. I fear that today’s youth spend too much time on such jocular activities and not on academic pursuit.” Snape sneered before turning to Harry, “Do you play?” 

 

 

“Yes, seeker.” Came Harry’s response with a defiant truth. 

 

 

“I see.” Snape spoke disdainfully, “It’s no wonder that this generation are full of dunderheads, when many of them take pleasure in being hit in the head. Don’t you agree Longbottom?” 

 

 

“Uh yes, sir.” Squeaked Neville with a little fear. 

 

 

Satisfied that he’d sufficiently humiliated Harry, the dark haired man turned his attention away and began rhapsodising about the use of Ashwinder eggs in potions, whilst Neville nodded along sycophantly. 

 

 

“You must have some stories to tell about Draco here. I heard you met him last year?” Viktor asked Harry in a friendly tone. 

 

 

“Oh I did meet him and his friend Blaise Zabini. Tell me, has he always been so friendly?” Harry jibed playfully, amused at the scowl that littered Malfoy’s face as the two gentlemen teamed up to tease him. 

 

 

“Oh he can be kind when we wants to be. He wouldn’t admit it, it goes against his aristocratic image, but every year he goes to the end of the earth to make sure his mother has the perfect present for her birthday.” 

 

 

“Really? How sweet.” Harry laughed at the flush of embarrassment on the blond’s face. 

 

 

“Yes. Last year he travelled to France to get Narcissa her favourite chocolates as the London store had sold out. He’s very dedicated.” 

 

“I know I’m fascinating, but can you please stop discussing me.” Malfoy drawled snarkily. 

 

 

“Sorry Malfoy, didn’t mean to offend.” Harry replied, amused at the opportunity he’d had to create discomfort. It was a petty revenge, but he decided to take what he could. 

 

 

Unbeknownst to the gentlemen, Hermione watched the interlude with a wry smile. She couldn’t help but notice that the blond often looked at her friend throughout the dinner when he thought no one would notice. The glances weren’t admiring nor were they hostile; they seemed curious. Hermione filed this information away for later, she did so love a mystery especially if it involved a friend. There was an unmistakable tension between Harry and Malfoy, and Hermione vowed to do anything in her power to solve it. 

 

 

 

Chapter 11 

 

 

Much to Harry’s dismay, he saw Malfoy all too often the following few days. He would appear at the most unexpected times, and stay for a few hours with Hermione and Harry. He did not say much, he often brought a potion book to read, and it seemed to Harry that he was seeking respite from Snape at his manor. After all, his godfather was the overbearing type, so Harry could not blame Malfoy the want of solitude. 

 

 

Still, it did make Harry feel awkward and on edge when he was there. Why visit at all, if not to be solicitous? The only good thing that occurred from these visits was that Viktor was often brought along, which meant that Harry had chance to talk to him about quidditch and other pleasantries. He found himself becoming fast friends with the man and was annoyed that Malfoy seemed to control his movements. He said as much one day to his friend. 

 

 

“Ah Draco doesn’t control me. Not really. I mean it’s just easier to follow his lead. If I didn’t want to do something, I wouldn’t. I don’t mind him getting his way.” Viktor explained nonchalantly, not noticing that Harry was furious at the explanation. 

 

 

“What gives him the right to dictate? How can you be friends with him Viktor?” 

 

 

“He’s a good friend Harry. Don’t let his posturing fool you. He cares. Only a few weeks ago he saved a friend from a potentially bad match. Or at least that’s what he said.” Viktor shrugged oblivious to the simmering fire within Harry. He’d long suspected that Malfoy had been involved in the separation of Zabini and his sister, but for him to brag about it? Unforgivable. Harry seethed silent with barely suppressed rage, he wasn’t sure how he managed to conceal it from Viktor for the remainder of his visit, but he did. 

 

 

When he was not sat with Hermione, avoiding Neville, or chatting with Viktor; Harry took the opportunity to play quidditch at a nearby pitch. He relished the feeling of pure exhilaration that came from soaring high above the ground on his firebolt, performing death defying manoeuvres in his pursuit of his practice snitch. 

 

 

He had just pulled up from a wronski feint, gleefully grasping the golden ball in his left hand when he sensed a presence watching him. Instantly on guard, he turned around in the direction he felt the observant eyes. Harry normally ventured out in the morning so that he did not have any spectators, this was time alone for him and he couldn’t bear the scrutiny. It was therefore a huge surprise to see Malfoy sauntering over towards him at this incredibly early hour. 

 

 

“Potter. You play well.” It appeared difficult for the man to acknowledge this and the painful expression he wore made Harry inwardly grin. 

 

“Thanks.” Harry felt awkward with the pleasantries, especially with the recent news. However he decided to keep civil if Malfoy did. 

 

 

“Do you come here often?” Came Malfoy’s next question after a tense beat of silence. Harry informed him that he came here usually in the early morning, deciding that Malfoy wouldn’t be as likely to bump into him again now that he knew what time Harry practised at. After all it had surely been a coincidental fluke that they were out at the same time. 

 

 

“Well I shall leave you to your practice.” Malfoy said solemnly before turning to leave, as Harry gaped after him in shock after the bizarre interlude. 

 

 

When Harry told Hermione what had happened, it confirmed the witch’s suspicions. Malfoy definitely appeared to be interested in her friend. But how? Not that Harry wasn’t great and without charms, but how could a pure blood from the upper echelons of society be interested in a wizard of half-blood status? But he had to be; it was the only thing that explained the stolen looks, the frequent visits and now the impromptu meetings. She couldn’t help but worry how the whole thing would play out, and decided to keep a close eye on her friend’s reactions. He appeared to be his typically oblivious self currently, though she wondered if he’d welcome the blond’s attentions. After all, the wizard was rich, powerful, good looking and intelligent for all his arrogance and pride. 

 

 

After the initial impromptu meeting on the quidditch pitch, Harry believed that would be the last he saw of Malfoy there. Sadly that was not the case, and more often than not the blond was already there flying on his own firebolt when Harry arrived. Grudgingly, Harry had to admit that the man was a supremely good flier, his motions carrying the same elegance that he exuded on foot. As though he was waiting for Harry, more often than not Malfoy would stop flying when he arrived. There a few awkward words of conversation were exchanged, before Harry would take off on his own broom feeling the heavy eyes of Malfoy on his back as he did so. 

 

 

“Don’t you think that Malfoy might be interested in you Harry?” Hermione broached the subject a few days later. 

 

 

Harry was thunderstruck at the mere suggestion. “No of course not. He didn’t even want to dance with me the first time we met. I’m pretty sure he hates me!” 

 

 

“Why would he visit so much if he hates you?” Hermione asked patiently, surely Harry wasn’t that oblivious. Though perhaps he was. 

 

 

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of his. Maybe he wants chance to sneer at me, maybe he wants to get away from Snape for a while. But he definitely does not like me.” Harry exclaimed, clearly unfurled by the mere suggestion of Malfoy liking him. 

 

It was only the following evening when Harry was made to eat his words. A knock at the door startled Harry from his Quidditch Techniques book, and he cast a quick tempus. It was 8:30pm, which was rather late for visitors and he knew Neville and Hermione had already retired for the evening, so he was more than a little puzzled. 

 

 

Warily he got up to answer the door, gripping his wand tightly in his hand in preparation. Shock ran through him as he recognised the corn silk blond hair on the head of the man that stood shiftily at his door. Malfoy stepped inside, hardly waiting for an invitation, as soon as he opened the door gingerly. Harry stood nervously as the man paced back and forth around the admittedly small living room. 

 

 

“I can’t help it Potter. I’ve tried to fight it.” Malfoy began with deep anguish. 

 

 

“Are you okay Malfoy? Do I need to get a healer? Is something wrong with you?” Harry asked rather worried at this abnormal behaviour from the normally collect individual. 

 

 

“No you imbecile, the only thing wrong with me is you.” 

 

 

“Me? What have I done?” Harry squeaked, choosing to ignore the insult for now. 

 

 

“Yes you. I can’t help it Potter, I’ve tried so hard to get you out of my head.” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed vehemently. “I’d say that you slipped me Amortentia but you’re too much of an idealistic fool for that.” 

 

 

“You like me?” Harry’s head spun and he felt achingly sick. 

 

 

“No Potter, I love you. Merlin knows why. You’re everything I can’t stand. Appalling fashion sense, dubious connections, inferior blood status, pitiful manners, a saintliness that makes me nauseous..” 

 

 

“Right, I get the picture Malfoy.” Harry interrupted his tirade, not wanting to hear any more of his supposed flaws. 

 

 

The blond seemed to remember himself and shockingly brought himself down onto one knee as Harry stood with his mouth wide open in astonishment. “Harry, despite all your shortcomings, I love you and I would be honoured if you chose me as your partner.” 

 

 

“No.” Came Harry’s immediate and perhaps blunt response. Though he did not know what else to say when confronted with the horror that was sadly reality. 

 

 

“You reject me? Why am I not good enough for you, oh perfect Potter?” Malfoy stood back up, venom laced his words as his silver eyes flashed dangerously. 

 

 

“Why? You insulted my appearance, my personality, my status and my family. Of course I’d say no.” Harry had to restrain himself from shouting in fury. 

 

 

“You can hardly expect me to be happy about your connections. Blood traitors like the Weasley’s and a werewolf godparent. I suppose you wanted me to go on about your many virtues and play blind to your flaws?" Malfoy retorted sharply, beyond incensed. 

 

 

“Honestly Malfoy, even if you had proposed in the best way possible, I would never marry you. You broke my sister’s heart by separating her from Zabini.” 

 

 

“Yes well I’ve been a kinder friend to Blaise than myself it would appear.” Malfoy drawled waspishly. 

 

“Friend? You don’t know the meaning of friendship. Lockhart told me how you treated him!” Harry could not help but yell the last part of his sentence. 

 

 

“Lockhart? You know nothing about that.” His voice became dangerously quiet and he made his way to the door with remarkable dignity, his face once again a blank mask. He paused just before he left, his eyes capturing Harry’s, “I see I’ve been wasting my time. Good night.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12 

 

 

Harry struggled to sleep that night. He’d laid in bed ruminating over the shocking revelation that Malfoy had dropped on him. It was hard for him not to feel guilty for the way he’d refused, Malfoy had professed to love him after all. Even if he had been a git of the highest order whilst doing so, Harry must have hurt his feelings. Though he felt a prickle of sympathy of the hurt he must have caused, his answer never wavered. He would not have accepted Malfoy, though perhaps he could have been kinder in his rejection. 

 

 

The next morning filled Harry with trepidation. He worried that Malfoy had told everyone about what had occurred and that there would be a catastrophic fallout from Snape Manor. He mainly worried about seeing the blond though and the churning of feelings that would accompany such an event. 

 

 

Deciding that avoidance would be the best method for dealing with the situation, Harry stayed in his room mostly, missing his usual quidditch practice. Unfortunately, the situation caught up with Harry when a regal owl delivered a letter to his window. The bird glared at him piercingly, as though waiting to make sure Harry opened the letter. 

 

 

It wasn’t hard to guess that the letter was from Malfoy. Who else would write in such an elegant cursive script and have cause to send him a letter so early? Heart pounding, Harry’s fingers trembled as he broke the seal and opened the letter. He was instantly engrossed in the admittedly long letter. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Potter, 

 

 

Don’t worry I'm not so much of a masochist to face your rejection again, so I won't bore you with such requests. Instead I wish to address two very different claims that you have charged me with last night. The first being your sister's happiness and the second a dealing with Lockhart. 

 

 

On the first account, I admit to having colluded with Miss Parkinson in order to separate my friend Zabini from what I deemed a poor match. It wasn't about my opinions on the worthiness of the Weasley's that made me act. I overheard you’re adoptive mother speaking about the upcoming wedding and how since Zabini is wealthy that there would be no expense spared. It seemed to me that the Weasley's, who don’t have much money, were just wishing to marry for money. I did not want that for my friend. 

 

 

Now on the second account, I must ask you to keep this in confidence as it was a painful event for my family. I do not know what Lockhart has claimed, but I will tell you what happened between us. Lockhart's family were close to mine and so Lockhart and I grew up closely together. Though of course he was many years older, I saw him of a brother. He had always been charming, and had a way of getting everyone to love him, so he had my father wrapped around his little finger. However when my father passed away his true colours were shown. He was angry that my father had only left him what he considered a small sum of 10000 galleons. I think he expected to have gotten half the estate, and he took out his rage on the guests at the funeral. My mother tried to calm him down, prevent him making such a scene. He decided to retaliate by grabbing her, making lewd comments and trying to kiss her. I admit I nearly killed him. Only my mother begging me not to made me stop. Instead I threw him out the Manor, hoping that would be the last I'd have to see him. 

 

 

Unfortunately that was not the case. A few months later I began to receive letters from countless witches and wizards claiming that they'd been wronged by Lockhart and that the Manor was where he said he lived. They were friends and families of wizards he'd been said to have obliviated after stealing their stories and writing them as his own adventures. I did some investigating and it proved to be true. After telling the publishers, to prevent scandal, they published the books under another name and gave the money to the rightful owner. Though I didn’t see him, he knew It was my doing that had stopped his scheme. 

 

That’s my explanation though I don’t know what he's said. There are quite a few people that can confirm what I've said though if you need it. 

 

Yours, 

 

Draco Malfoy 

 

 

Harry was immediately horrified after he finished reading the letter. He didn’t know what to make of it. It still stung what he said about Ginny and Zabini, but he could understand it. He’d be the first to admit that Mrs Weasley could be a little foolish with her words and that he could seem that the Weasley’s just wanted Zabini for his money. The part about Lockhart though? If it was true, and Harry had to believe it was, then everything he’d thought about Malfoy was wrong? The villain was Lockhart and the victim was Malfoy in this version. Then the only thing to complain about Malfoy was that he hadn’t wanted to dance with Harry when they first met. But then he’d gone and fallen in love with him. Harry felt more and more wretched as time went on as he read and reread the letter. Soon he’d know it off by heart. 

 

Harry was informed, when he finally emerged from the guest quarters, that Malfoy and Viktor had been to see him to say goodbye, that they were returning home on urgent business. A peculiar feeling of relief and sadness filled Harry as he heard the news. He wouldn’t know what to say to Malfoy, so perhaps it was for the best. 

 

 

When Harry returned back to the burrow, it was to a very melancholy Ginny who had just returned from visiting the Patel family, near to where Pansy had been staying. 

 

 

“I think you might have been right Harry.” She managed in a resigned voice when they sat in the privacy of her room. 

 

 

“I often am. What about though?” He joked, trying to bring a small smile to her face. 

 

 

“Pansy might not be a good friend.” She said glumly, “I wrote to her when I got to the Patel’s. I told her that I was close by if she liked to visit. She told me that she was too busy. Every day a new excuse.” 

 

 

“Oh.” Was all Harry could manage, he’d known Pansy was two-faced but to be that rude? Harry hated seeing Ginny so upset. 

 

 

“You’re always right about people. I wish I’d seen it earlier.” She sighed as she pulled herself together, “Anyway enough about me. How were Neville and Hermione? What was Snape Manor like?” 

 

 

“Honestly Ginny I’m not always right about people. I think I have misjudged Malfoy and Lockhart very badly.” Harry itched to get out the story, he knew that Ginny would keep it a secret to the grave if he asked. The whole thing had been weighing him down and he needed to talk to someone about it. Other than omitting the Zabini aspect, for he didn’t want to upset Ginny, he told her the entirety of what had happened; the proposal, the letter and the truth about Lockhart. For a while she sat there in silence, gobsmacked. 

 

 

“It seems you have been busy Harry.” She laughed hesitantly after she’d recovered. “Still I feel sorry for Malfoy. Lockhart has treated him terribly. And then he professes his love for you and gets a hostile rejection.” 

 

 

Harry squirmed a little at that. Though he was unsure of his feelings towards the wizard, he hadn’t exactly been the friendliest individual after all, Harry had completely misjudged him and so did not know what to think. “I know Ginny, I made the right decision in saying no though. You know I don’t love him. But I do feel bad about not even giving him a chance.” 

 

 

“If anyone’s to blame it’s Lockhart. He lied to us. Should we tell people?” Ginny asked anxiously. 

 

 

“No. Best not. It’s Malfoy’s story to tell if he wishes. We will just avoid him as much as possible, break off our connection slowly.” 

 

 

“If you’re sure.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 13 

 

 

The next few days were filled with Mrs Weasley moaning constantly about the lack of upcoming weddings. She didn’t seem to realise that her complaining about Zabini’s absence upset Ginny more, as she continued to do so at an alarming rate. 

 

 

Still a change of topic was most welcome when it was brought a few days later. Though it was not a fortuitous occurrence, at least in the minds of Harry and Ginny. 

 

 

“Oh how wonderful. It seems Bill would be happy to have the twins for a few weeks this summer. He needs some help with household maintenance apparently. Would you boys like to stay with your brother in London?” Mrs Weasley announced at breakfast one morning as the owl post arrived. 

 

“Of course we would.” Fredrick answered happily. 

 

“We enjoy staying with Bill.” George looked positively gleeful at the prospect. Understandable as the twins were given much more freedom in the care of Bill, he was busy at work so could not keep a close eye on them as Mrs Weasley could. 

 

 

Worried at the mischief the twins could get up to; Harry spoke with Mr Weasley, begging him to not allow the twins to go. Sadly it was a lost cause. 

 

 

“If I don’t let them go they’ll just nag me. Let Bill deal with the fallout from their pranks. He’s better at curse breaking anyway.” Mr Weasley had said genially, unconcerned at the havoc the twins may cause in the unsuspecting town of London. Harry gave up after spending half an hour trying to argue his case, Mr Weasley thought that the twins needed to be taught a lesson only experience could bring. He was unconcerned at how it could affect the Weasley name. 

 

 

Harry was unable to brood for long however, his own trip with his godfathers was fast approaching. As the time drew near, Harry grew more excited. Spending some quality time with Remus and Sirius was undoubtedly the cure to all his woes. 

 

 

“Right, so I thought we’d portkey to Durdle’s Door first. Then go on to Glastonbury Tor and see where Merlin himself is meant to be buried, then of course we will head to Stonehenge for the Beltane Festival.” Remus studied his map thoughtfully for what appeared the thousandth time that morning; “ We can fly or walk most of the time and set up our tent for camp along the way.” 

 

 

“Remus, honestly we’ve got it. Incessantly planning just takes the fun out of everything.” Sirius joked as Remus scowled in frustration. Harry grinned at his godfathers, every trip was the same with the two of them. Remus would plan every detail for the leg of the journey and Sirius would convince them to go off track which often resulted in a chaotic scramble. Still it was always fun and it amused Harry when he came along for the ride. 

 

 

“Well don’t go blaming me when everything goes awry and we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.” Remus said with a small smile at his lover. 

 

 

“Have you forgotten the fact we’re wizards, really?” Sirius grinned cheekily, loving the ability to taunt Remus. 

 

 

“Fine. Now Harry; have you got everything packed? The portkey is in half an hour so I hope you got a bag sorted.” 

 

 

“Remus, you’ve asked me that about a hundred times since you came over this morning.” Harry said with fond exasperation. 

 

 

“I give up.” Remus shook his head, “Fine as long as you have what I said to bring on the list I sent.” 

 

 

Harry nodded obligingly, trying not to roll his eyes when he was asked if he’d triple checked. Mercifully the portkey in the shape of a spatula activated, and after a jubilant goodbye, the trio found themselves tugged across the county towards Dorset. 

 

 

Harry laid sprawled on his back, gazing at the dull and grey sky. His breath had been knocked from him and so he took a moment to just watch the clouds as he recovered. Sirius laughingly pulled him to his feet and the three set off towards the coastline, disillusioned to the eyes of muggles. 

 

 

Despite the overcast sky, the air was muggy as they made the five mile walk to the magical land site. It was so humid that Harry could feel a trail of sweat line his back as they trudged along. Still Harry was enjoying it, he liked to be outside and the scenery was breathtakingly stunning. Nature surrounded them as they walked along a coastal track to their destination; an orchestra of bird song and ocean waves becoming their background music. Harry longed to pull out his firebolt and fly, to soar above the farmland and floral fields, to feel the cool air breeze along his face. Sadly they had decided that there’d be better only flying during the evening, when there was a blanket of darkness to cover them from prying muggle eyes. 

 

 

A sudden glimpse of the naturally crafted archway made Harry’s mood elate magnificently. He could feel the thrum of magic that permeated the rocks as they neared the geographical wonder. He looked to their tour guide, also known as Remus, in askance for the residual power he could feel in those stones. 

 

 

“Wizards sculpted the rocks a millennia ago. They thought that they could create an archway between the world of the living and the dead. Sadly it only worked one way and a few centuries ago the wizards removed the runes for safety. Still a replica archway is said to be in the department of mysteries, though who knows.” Remus spoke as though in lecture mode, in another life Harry thought he’d make an excellent teacher. Though intrigued by the archway and the story that accompanied it, it was obvious that he’d wish to speak to his departed parents, instinct made him want to stay back. A creepy feeling settled in his stomach, even as his heart was filled with awe for the sheer power. 

 

 

“So whose hungry?” Sirius broke the tension as he unravelled a hamper that, Remus naturally, had prepared for the trio. 

 

 

Harry tucked in hungrily to his sandwiches as he took in the beautiful scenery. He could see a scattering of muggles trawling along the beach; oblivious to the emanating power that exuded from the rocks. To them it was just a piece of history, a geological point of interest from the Jurassic era, and a scenic attraction. 

 

 

“So we have about fifty miles to go till we arrive at Glastonbury Tor.” Remus explained, once again consulting his map. “I’d say if we set off at dusk we could fly that and then set up camp just outside to have an explore in the morning.” 

 

 

“Great.” Sirius said winking, “I want to work on my tan. Come Harry let’s check out the beach you’re looking pasty.” 

 

 

“Thanks.” Harry muttered and followed his godfathers as they sunk onto the beach, revelling in the muggy warmth of the sun. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 14 

 

 

Dusk came and they set off to Glastonbury Tor; teeth chattering as the icy wind blasted their faces. The barrage of cold air came incessantly as their brooms soared high in the air, making excellent time on their journey of fifty miles. 

 

 

They started the descent down as they flew over Somerset. Harry was once again thankful for Remus's obsession with his map as they were able to follow his navigations. He knew he’d have no chance at finding the landing spot as the fields all looked the same in the murky darkness. 

 

 

Sirius took over in his typical ‘macho’ style when it came to building the tent. Harry hung back, feeling useless as his godparents set up camp for the night, ushering him out of the way until they’d finished. A few well-placed charms later and the tent was fully erect. It was cosy inside, but spacious enough for two bedrooms and a bathroom. They hadn’t needed much else as Remus had packed supplies for luncheon picnics and they were to frequent cafes for the other meals. After his godparents had warded the tent with protection and disillusionment charms, Harry slept peacefully in his single bed. He briefly wondered how his family were doing; whether the twins had caused mischief and scandal, whether Ginny was okay at the burrow, and whether Hermione was alright with Neville. He refused to think about Malfoy and his letter, at least that’s what he told himself. 

 

 

Morning brought the sound of Remus at Harry’s bedroom door. He knocked politely before heading in with a mug of tea that he presented to Harry. 

 

“Early start to the day today. Thought we’d see the site this morning and then by this afternoon set off towards Stonehenge.” He smiled excitedly, “There’s a pilgrimage walk and it’s only 40 miles that we can split over a few days. We can see the trail Merlin did from Camelot to Avalon.” 

 

 

“Sounds great Remus.” Harry smiled at the enthusiasm his godfather had for the history. He was happy to just get out and about, and in the fresh air with two of his favourite companions. 

 

 

When they had reached the monument on top of the hill, Harry gazed at the beautiful scenery that encompassed the landscape. The counties of Somerset, Wiltshire and Dorset were visible from their height and it felt heady to be amongst the natural wonders. Of course the wizards could feel a deep connection in their bones to the residual ancient magic that permeated the ground they stood upon. Harry experienced a deep feeling of wonder as he imagined the trials that Merlin had faced as he walked this very pathway. 

 

 

They stayed in Glastonbury for a little while, enough time for a tea and a hearty brunch at a wizarding café that was close by. Eager to start the long trek ahead of them, the men set off on the first leg of their forty mile walk. 

 

Though he was fatigued, Harry enjoyed himself immensely as he soaked up the richness of the walk along the way. They had fine around twelve miles of walking when they decided to call it a day and set up camp. Harry was thankful as his feet were covered in blisters that needed the healing touch of his wand. That being took care of, Harry had a long bath, soaking his aching bones in the bubbles. 

 

 

 

“So Harry, I hear that Neville married that Granger lass. Thought he was following you around like an eager puppy?” Sirius teased him with a smirk as they set off for another fifteen mile trek the next morning. 

 

 

“Leave the boy alone Sirius. His love life is none of our business.” Remus chastised smiling at his partner’s antics. 

 

 

“Or lack thereof.” Sirius muttered unashamedly. Harry took his godfather’s ribbing good-naturedly, it was how he showed affection after all. 

 

 

“Perhaps I shall live my life as a bachelor. Parties, sightseeing, no strings attached.” Harry teased his godfather back, knowing that that would have been the ultimate life style goal for Sirius if he hadn’t met and fallen in love with Remus and been forced to settle down. 

 

 

It was a few miles later, Sirius had stalked ahead a little in a bit of a sulk from a dose of his own medicine, when Remus spoke to Harry candidly. 

 

 

“I just don’t want to see you give up on finding a partner. You’ve always had a big heart Harry, and I know you will want children one day.” 

 

 

“I know, it’s just I want to love the witch or wizard I end up marrying. I don’t want it to be just a good match.” Harry spoke honestly. 

 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting love Harry, you just have to give yourself the chance to feel it.” Remus gave him a knowing smile and Harry squirmed once more at the attention. He was thankful that a moment later Sirius burst back into view, smiling gleefully. 

 

 

“Remus! Harry! There’s a pub just over that hill. Shall we have a pint or two?” He asked, clearly happy at the prospect of refreshments. Sirius had always enjoyed alcoholic beverages, it was a way to keep him happy. 

 

 

Of course they agreed, the walk had been tiring thus far and they still had plenty of time before the Beltane festival, and so they trudged up to the Marauders Inn, following Sirius as he led the way. It was quite a few hours later when, tipsily, they left the pub to venture back on the trail to Stonehenge. The gentlemen were more than happy, they had eaten excellent home cooked food and had drunk far too many pints to warm their stomachs. It was not for a few hours later that trouble occurred that wrecked their peaceful ambience. 

 

 

It only started with a small splash of water on the back of Harry’s neck. The clouds had grown a dismal grey as they walked, but it had not worried them as they were close to the next rest stop where they’d set up camp. They were about a mile out when the torrential rain began. It pounded vociferously, quickly joined by hail and the ominous rumble of thunder. They were quickly soaked to the bone, wet in a way that no drying spell alone could combat. They needed shelter, and quickly hung as close to the trees to set up their tent. 

 

 

To the horror of the trio, this is when they realised the situation had gotten really bad. The tent was missing. 

 

 

“Where’s my bag?” Remus yelled at Sirius over the cacophony of wind and rain. 

 

 

“Bag? I thought you had it?” Sirius shrugged seemingly confused. 

 

 

“No! You had it out in the pub remember? You wanted to get some extra money from it for the last round of fire whiskey?” Remus demanded clearly upset. 

 

 

“Oh yeah. I don’t know where it is. I might have left it there.” He said nonchalantly as both Harry and Remus shouted his name, asking what they were going to do. They didn’t have the coordinates to apparate back to the pub, and walking in this weather was way out of the question. 

 

 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Sirius here to the rescue. An old Black cousin lives nearby, I’m sure they’ll put us up for the night and we can go back and find our back once the weather settles.” Sirius was as calmly jovial as ever, ignoring the fact that it was he who has foiled Remus's carefully laid plans. 

 

 

“A Black? I thought they all hated you after you married me?” Remus seemed worried and rightly so. Sirius had always been seen as a rebel of the family and his marrying a werewolf had been the final straw for his mother Walburga Black who had disinherited her son. 

 

 

“Don’t worry this one has always been decent enough. We don’t have much choice anyway. I can just about remember the coordinates.” Sirius proclaimed cheerfully as he grabbed both Remus and Harry by their shoulders, apparating them with a crack. 

 

“Wait!” Remus began, but it was too late and in the next instant the gentlemen were deposited clumsily outside a regal set of double doors. 

 

 

“Oh I’m actually surprised it worked, the wards are pretty strong usually.” 

 

 

“It’s because you’re a Black. The wards recognise you as family.” Came the cool drawl of Draco Malfoy, surprise written clearly on your face. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 15 

 

 

Harry flushed, his cheeks burned red with mortification as he found himself on the step of Malfoy Manor. He wasn’t even decently dressed; he was drenched in rain, mud and sweat from the exercise so he couldn’t even present a composed appearance. 

 

 

“You look well Potter.” The blond drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Harry looked up sharply and was surprised to see the smile that lined his face, softening his words with playful intent. “Come inside, you can have a bath and clean clothes to start with. I’ll send the elves to sort you out.” 

 

 

The three wizards gratefully followed Malfoy; Remus and Sirius sharing a look in response to the attention Malfoy had directed towards their godson. Harry was nervous and confused at how friendly Malfoy was being, especially in light of their last conversation. 

 

“I hope everything will be okay for you Potter.” Malfoy walked him to a guest bedroom and stood uncertainly outside. 

 

 

“It is Malfoy. Thank you for doing this.” Harry smiled at the blond reassuringly, his heart thrumming with nerves as his eyes met enticingly grey steel ones. 

 

 

“It’s nothing. We have plenty of room here at the Manor. Call for Mimpsy when you’ve all freshened up if you and your godparents want to join me for a brandy in the lounge. 

 

 

“We will Malfoy. And call me Harry.” 

 

 

“Only if you call me Draco.” The blond winked as he sauntered away. 

 

 

 

His godparents were sat on his bed when he emerged from the luxurious bathroom feeling clean and pampered. They were dressed in borrowed wizarding robes, looking refreshed and happy on the resplendent bed. 

 

 

“I didn’t realise you were so well acquainted with Malfoy.” Remus stated blandly, though the gleam in his eyes told a different story. 

 

 

“Yeah, no wonder you didn’t want Neville when you have Narcissa’s boy interested in you Harry.” Sirius teased. 

 

 

“No, it’s not like that. Draco doesn’t like me.” Harry protested, his face a brilliant magenta. 

 

 

“Don’t be shy Harry, no shame in liking a Black. We are a handsome bunch after all.” 

 

 

A puzzled frown appeared on Remus's face. “I didn’t think you got on with Malfoy? Didn’t he refuse to dance with you when you first met?” 

 

 

Harry winced at the reminder of his old prejudice. “I might have misjudged him.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper and his godparents shared another look conspiratorially. 

 

 

“Well, let us get ourselves down there. I want to see my cousin Narcissa, and Harry here needs to see his suitor.” Sirius winked as Harry spluttered indignantly before he summoned Mimpsy to show them the way. 

 

 

A fireplace roared in the background of the lounge. Draco was sat next to a beautiful older woman that must have been his mother. Their aristocratic features were clearly hereditary, as was the carefully constructed mask that framed both their faces. Noticing that his impromptu guests had entered the room, he stood up smiling as he approached Harry. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my mother.” 

 

 

“Oh.. erm okay.” Harry spluttered nervously, kicking himself for his incoherency around the wizard. 

 

 

“Mother,” he called her over. “This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Narcissa Malfoy formally Black.” 

 

 

“A pleasure.” She greeted with a small smile as Harry took her hand in his. Sirius came to his rescue before Harry had been required to make exceedingly awkward small talk by joining the conversation. 

 

 

“Narcissa, I’m grateful that you both let us in for the night. We were on our way to Stonehenge for the Beltane festival when the weather struck and we’d lost our tent. Fortunately I remembered the coordinates to the Manor from when I attended your wedding.” 

 

“I’m glad you made it. The weather was horrid earlier. April showers and all that.” Narcissa gestured for them to all sit down and signalled a house elf to bring them all a drink.” 

 

 

“Thanks. And don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair soon. We just need to collect our bag from the Marauders Inn. We have a tent inside.” Sirius explained. 

 

 

“Nonsense. You should stay here until Beltane, it’s only a short distance to Stonehenge from here. We can all go together to the festival. I can send Mimpsy to collect your bag in the morning.” Draco announced, determination in his eyes as he gazed at Harry. There could be no argument, his face was set. 

 

 

“Okay, that’d be great.. thank you Malfoy.” Harry’s heart fluttered at the blond’s avid attention. He couldn’t still be interested in him, could he? After all, Harry had rejected him so cruelly the last time and it had been months. Why the change in disposition though? Harry could see that the blond was still snarky but he could also see that his humour was playful and teasing mainly. 

 

 

“You know you’re meant to call me Draco.” He winked with a small grin before joining Remus in a discussion on the historic significance of Glastonbury Tor and whether Merlin’s bones were actually buried there. 

 

Harry sat comfortably drinking his brandy, chatting to the others on occasion but content to just listen. The late hour meant that it was soon time to say goodnight. Harry had found himself laughing at the dry wit of his blond companion more often than not, and was startled to find himself becoming more and more attracted as the night wore on. 

 

 

“Some friends of yours will be by tomorrow. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson are coming for dinner.” Draco informed Harry as he led them towards the guest rooms. 

 

After they had said goodnight, Harry laid on the excessively comfy bed and ruminated over his feelings for the blond. He was starting to regret his decision to reject the man; Draco was smart, funny, good looking and kind. If only he’d had seen this side of him to begin with. He could have been married to him and already living here at the Manor; if only he’d not been bullishly sticking to his misconceptions. Harry fell asleep wondering what could have been. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 16 

 

 

Pansy Parkinson was even more obnoxious than Harry remembered. She grew increasingly loud and hostile towards Harry as the evening drew on, an effort that turned Draco further away from her as her manners became more vulgar. Harry remained silent, keeping his temper in check, her insults were subtle to the point that he could not call her out on them and so he had to weather them with dignity. 

 

 

To distract himself he studied the companion Millicent Bulstrode that Pansy had brought. In her letter to Ginny, she had indicated that there was to be a love match between Millicent and Blaise. However Harry could determine no evidence to support Pansy’s claim. The pair barely spoke to one another, and Millicent seemed to be more interested in women, if by the way she looked at Pansy was any indication. 

 

 

Harry thought he could sense that Blaise missed Ginny as he spoke of her often. Despite his usual obliviousness, even he could tell that there were more to the subtle questions Blaise asked with regards to how Ginny was doing. This was confirmed in the relief that was spread across his face when Harry informed him that she was currently single. He hoped that this would bring his sister some better fortune. 

 

 

It would have amused Harry to see the way Pansy threw herself at Draco, if it hadn’t been so pitifully awkward. He could tell that Narcissa wasn’t amused by the girl’s antics, if the way the woman’s lip tightened into a frown was an indication. 

 

 

“Draco we should go to the Beltane festival together. Blaise and Millicent too.” Pansy announced gaily with a simpering smile. 

 

 

The blond frowned, his brow wrinkled in annoyance. But before he could answer, his mother interrupted smoothly. “But Pansy we can’t forget about Harry and his godfathers. They’re here for the Beltane festival after all.” 

 

 

“Oh I didn’t realise they were staying. Isn’t it a full moon soon?” She asked with a smirk, trying to embarrass Harry by calling attention to his godfather’s condition. 

 

 

Remus wasn’t easily cowed, he’d lived with his lycanthropic affliction since childhood after all. Thus he spoke dryly, “Don’t worry Miss Parkinson, the full moon is not for another week and I’m on wolfbane in any case. I am sure Harry would be happy to go to the Beltane festival with Draco.” 

 

 

“I would.” Harry nodded in agreement, though he did not miss the wry smirk that Draco flashed his way. 

 

 

“Great. We could fly together if you like? Your broom was in the travel bag we recovered.” He asked Harry as Pansy visibly wilted. A smug grin shortly followed; “That is if you’re able to keep up with me.” 

 

 

Harry playfully answered, laughing at the ever competitive edge between them, “Honestly Draco, I’d be more worried in your own performance.” It was strange to Harry that the back and forth between them no longer angered him, instead he found the snark to be endearingly amusing. 

 

 

“Yes, I suppose you do have some skill riding a broom.” Draco coolly drawled, and his mother coughed delicately at the obvious innuendo. Harry just blushed and excused himself from the room, citing that he’d need to have a nap before they set off to Stonehenge as the Beltane festival was the entire night. 

 

 

It was only a few short hours later when Harry was woken groggily from his sleep by an owl tapping impatiently at his window. He saw that it was one of the Weasley’s and so hurried to let the owl in, giving it a treat as he unravelled the script. What he read made his heart sink as the familiar handwriting of his sister’s quill stated him in the face. 

 

 

Harry, 

 

 

I wouldn’t bother you, but something dreadful has happened. Bill says that the twins are missing. I think it’s to do with Lockhart as Bill saw them hanging out together a lot. Who knows what kind of scheme they’ve got themselves in? Come home quick Harry, Mum and Dad are both frantic with worry and we could use your help. 

 

 

Yours, 

 

 

Ginny 

 

 

Harry stared in a state of shock at the letter, missing the knock on his door that indicated Malfoy had entered the room. A refined voice jolted him back to reality. 

 

 

“So ready to lose the race?” Draco smiled as he approached Harry, coming to a standstill as he took in the other’s agitated demeanour. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

 

 

“I can’t go.” Harry said in a small voice, observing the flash of disappointed that swept briefly over the cool mask of Draco’s face. He handed the letter over, and watched as the blond’s face morphed into anger and dismay. He could hear Draco muttering to himself, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I’m going to kill Lockhart’ and he moved closer to the man, frantic. 

 

 

“You can’t go after him Draco! He could hurt you!” Harry pleaded. 

 

 

“I can’t let him get away with this.” Draco practically growled, “It’s my fault anyway, I should have stopped him while I had the chance. I didn’t want to expose him, I was too worried about saving face.” 

 

Draco shook his head sadly and Harry longed to comfort him. “It’s not your fault at all, it’s Lockhart that’s done this.” Harry sighed, “Still I need to get home, do you think we can set up the floo to allow travel to the burrow?” 

 

 

“Of course.” He replied stiffly. “I’ll send a house-elf to communicate with Miss Weasley on the other side. Shall I get your godfathers?” 

 

 

“Please Draco, I can’t thank you enough for this.” Harry thanked him profusely. 

 

 

Draco nodded solemnly before turning away. Harry almost missed the quiet words the blond uttered, “I just wish we had more time.” 

 

 

Chapter 17 

 

 

“How bad is it?” Harry asked Ginny as soon as he entered the living room. He could see that she was pale and wan but was forcing herself to remain calm for the situation. He wished his godfathers were still with him, but they’d gone to their place in London to help Bill find the twins and Lockhart. 

 

 

“It’s bad Harry.” Ginny said softly. “It appears Lockhart had gotten the twins involved in one of his gambling schemes. Trouble is, he owed money to a goblin gang and now the twins are caught up in that.” 

 

 

“What?” A surge of anger shook through Harry. “How is kidnapping the twins going to help with his gambling debt?” 

 

 

“I think he means to use them as leverage. Threaten to obliviate their memories if we don’t give him the money to pay his debts.” Ginny shook her head in dismay, clearly worried about her brothers. Mrs Weasley could be heard wailing raucously in the kitchen about the unknown whereabouts of her sons. Her emotions flipped from desperate worry to sheer anger at Lockhart and wretched goblins. Harry almost felt sorry for Lockhart, Mrs Weasley was a formidable opponent when it came to the wellbeing of her children. 

 

 

“Well it’s simple then. I’ll give him the gold.” Harry said determined. 

 

 

“You can’t Harry. The sum he’s wanting would practically empty your account, then what would you live on?” Ginny shook her head, marvelling at the generosity of her adoptive brother. She knew that he’d give everything away if he could, but he had to think of the future, of the Potter family he’d be sure to start. 

 

 

“There’s got to be another way. Lockhart can’t get away with holding our brothers hostage.” Harry raged, “What are the aurors doing about it?” 

 

 

“They’re with Bill working on a plan. They’ve tried tracking Lockhart and the twins’ magical signatures but he must be blocking it somehow. I just hope they’re okay.” Tears began to roll down her eyes and Harry stepped in to give her a hug. 

 

 

“Don’t worry. They’ll be fine. Lockhart won’t harm them. He needs them for the money. I just wish I could help out.” He reassured her with a pat on the shoulder. 

 

 

“You know you can’t Harry. The aurors are sorting it out, playing the hero will only make me worried about another of my brothers.” 

 

 

Harry knew that he was too inexperienced to do anything more than get in the way. That didn’t mean that he was happy about it. But playing the hero could put the twins in further harm's way, so he restrained himself, for now. Though as the days progressed on, and there had been scant news from Mr Weasley, he grew impatient. 

 

 

It had been two days since the twins had gone missing when news finally arrived. The Weasley household had been sat in the living room pale and withdrawn, even Percy had stopped his arrogant waxing about wand movements, when an owl tapped at the window. Ginny jumped up first and rushed to let the bird in, grasping at the letter tied to its feet. 

 

 

“They’ve got them.” She yelled joyfully. “It says that the aurors want to talk to them and St Mungo’s wants to check them out, but they’ll be flooing home tomorrow.” 

 

 

The occupants of the burrow felt an unmistakable rush of relief at the news. Mrs Weasley with misty eyes, announced that she was going to prepare a grand dinner for the twins’ return, mumbling as she sloped off to the kitchen deciding what desserts to bake. 

 

 

“Any idea what happened? Did they get Lockhart?” Harry asked Ginny quietly, away from the others. 

 

 

“It just said that an anonymous source helped the aurors apprehend Lockhart and that he was off before the Winzegmot for his crimes.” Ginny said as she handed Harry the hastily scrawled note from her father. 

 

 

“Hmm, I wonder how they managed to find them. After so long of him evading their tracking spells?” Harry pondered almost to himself. 

 

 

“I don’t know. Perhaps he got sloppy? The twins will probably be able to tell us.” Ginny shrugged, unconcerned now that her brothers were safe. 

 

If Harry had expected the twins to be subdued by their misadventure then he was in for a shock as the next morning they arrived as buoyant and cheerful as ever. He came to the conclusion that if there was a lesson to be learned in all of this it would be that the twins would never learn their lesson. 

 

 

“So then we gave that ministry hag Umbridge a pustule pill." Fredrick had bragged when they sat for lunch. 

 

 

“It was great. She broke out in the vilest boils you’ve ever seen. Fred tell them about the time we used Polyjuice potion to become each other.” George chimed with heavy laughter. 

 

 

“Oh that was hilarious. So we begin to transform back into ourselves. You should have seen the confusion on people’s faces when we didn’t change.” His twin began with an impish grin. 

 

 

“Yeah it was worth taste just to see Cornelius Fudges’ face. Think he thought he’d gone mad.” 

 

 

Harry controlled his rising frustration and anger at the twins complete lack of awareness that the trouble their antics had caused. Only a careful mantra made him restrain himself from killing them. He’d yet to get a serious word out of either of them on the subject of their rescue, he’d have to get them alone he resolved. 

 

 

However, his scheming was put on hold when the startling sight of two familiar gentlemen came into view of the burrow. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were both walking up the pathway, their nerves betrayed by the hesitance in their step. Mrs Weasley greeted them both civilly enough, though it was hard not to wince at the stark contrast in the warmth she addressed them with. 

 

 

“You come at a great time gentlemen. I’ve been preparing a feast in honour of the safe return of my sons that you’re welcome to stay for. Have you heard about their terrible ordeal?” Mrs Weasley asked loudly. 

 

 

“We have Mrs Weasley. I’m sorry such an event occurred.” Blaise Zabini said solemnly. 

 

 

“Oh Blaise dear, surely you can call me Molly by now?” The matriarch rudely ignored the blond’s presence in her kitchen, addressing herself solely to Zabini. 

 

 

“Okay Molly. Draco and I will be honoured to stay for dinner if you’d have us.” 

 

 

The dinner went as well as it could have given that Harry was sat far away from Draco whom had the misfortune of being sat next to Mrs Weasley. It was somewhat a miserable affair for Harry as his stomach fluttered nervously in Draco’s presence, which he could not relieve by speaking to the man. Though Harry was gratified to see Blaise and Ginny talking animatedly across from him, their expressions mirrored with cautious love. He saw that Draco was also observing them, and he smiled at the puzzled frown on the stoic man’s face. 

 

 

When the two men had left, Mrs Weasley was beside herself with joy clearly envisioning the upcoming wedding in her head. Harry sighed, miserable and confused. Draco had barely spoken a word to him, remaining coolly detached from the conversation at the table. It was hard to believe that he was the same outgoing and charming wizard that Harry had spent time with in Wiltshire. He was more like the Malfoy from before, though Harry could see the hidden warmth behind the icy exterior. They had promised that they’d visit again the next day, and Harry hoped that he’d be fortunate enough to have a decent conversation with him. 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 18 

 

 

The next day began with Harry believing that his luck had definitely changed. Fredrick and George had bounded into his room, excitable with a secret agenda. 

 

 

“Hi Harry!” Fredrick jumped on Harry’s bed, messing up the recently made covers. 

 

 

“Guess what?” George quickly followed his twin at bouncing on the now rumpled sheets. 

 

 

“What?” Harry asked tonelessly. He was annoyed at the twins and their hijinks. He wished he could still be in Wiltshire with Draco, who knows what could have been? 

 

 

“You’re meant to guess what Harry.” George reprimanded playfully. 

 

“Don’t worry we’ll tell you anyway.” Fred winked at him mischievously and Harry resisted the urge to throttle them both. 

 

 

“Sirius is going to teach us how to become an Animagus later today.” George grinned triumphantly. 

 

 

“We begged him to after seeing Malfoy transform. It was wicked.” Fred continued at Harry’s puzzled look. 

 

 

“Yeah, just imagine the pranks we could pull off if we could become an animal. Hopefully something better than that hawk Malfoy was.” 

 

 

“Though being able to fly would be pretty sweet.” They both chimed together victoriously. Harry’s head was spinning at the new information. 

 

 

“Wait. What? Draco – I mean Malfoy is an Animagus? How do you know?” He asked with urgent interest. 

 

“Oh we weren’t supposed to tell anyone about that.” Fred said, a little worry creeping into his jovial tone. 

 

 

“Yeah he made us promise not to let anyone know he was there.” George nodded in agreement. 

 

 

“Alright, we’ll tell you anyway.” They both said in perfect synchrony. 

 

 

“So me and Fred were stuck with that buffoon Lockhart bored out of our minds.” George began dramatically. 

 

 

“Yeah the git didn’t even have any cards to play exploding snap with.” Fred shook his head in mock disapproval. 

 

 

“A truly terrible host, eh Fred?” George tutted. Harry was quickly losing patience and it must have shown for Fred quickly got to the point. 

 

“So all hope is lost when we see a hawk come up to the window.” 

 

 

“We decided to let it inside for a bit of a laugh, figuring it might annoy Lockhart at least.” Fred chuckled to himself at the memory. 

 

 

“When, out of nowhere, the bird transformed into Malfoy. You know blond, pointy git? It was epic.” 

 

 

“But then Lockhart didn’t like that, and started firing some pretty nasty spells at Malfoy.” The twins both shuddered and Harry gripped the sheets on his bed rather tightly. He didn’t like the implications that Malfoy could have got hurt. 

 

 

“I’ll say something for the posh toff, he sure can fight. Both him and Lockhart were in an epic duel. We’d have joined in but we had no wands.” George grimaced regretfully and Harry knew the twins were sore at having missed such an amazing opportunity. 

 

“But we did have some itching powder on us, so we threw it at Lockhart. God that was hilarious wasn’t it George?” 

 

 

George agreed with a chuckle, “Fortunately the distraction worked and Malfoy got the upper hand. Stunning and tying up Lockhart with some rope before summoning the aurors to our location and leaving without a trace.” 

 

 

“How did he find you though? I thought Lockhart had blocked your magical signatures.” Harry couldn’t help asking, though he was more than stunned at the event he’d just been informed of. Draco risking his life for the twins? Why? 

 

 

“Oh we asked him that.” Fred said nodding in acknowledgment, “Thought it was strange how he found us.” 

 

 

“Malfoy told us he’d known of a few properties Lockhart had purchased and so had scouted them out till he found us.” George explained further as Harry was left reeling. 

 

 

All Harry could think of, for the entirety of the day, was the fact that Draco had spent time and energy to rescue the twins, not to mention the risk to himself. And he’d not even stuck around to accept the credit his bravery deserved. In fact it seemed he’d gone out of his way to avoid recognition. What a paradox of a man. Doing kindness to the Weasley family without acknowledgment but then acting coolly detached at dinner. It made no sense to Harry and he hoped that they would arrive at the burrow soon. 

 

 

Sadly, Harry was sorely disappointed when dinner time arrived and only Blaise appeared. Draco had sent his apologies, citing that a family matter needed attention. Only Harry and Ginny expressed concern over his absence, for which Harry felt bitter, knowing as he did the great debt that the Weasley family owed to the man. 

 

 

Still Harry could not be melancholy for long, for shortly after dinner had finished, Blaise had taken his sister to a private corner of the house to ask for her hand in marriage. Much jubilation occurred over the match, and Harry stifled the bubble of jealousy he felt at the beatific smile upon his sister’s face. He wondered if Blaise now had his friend’s blessing to marry Ginny, he hoped that was the case. It gave him cause to hope for himself and his chances. 

 

 

Their engagement had been announced little over a week when an unexpected visitor arrived at the burrow. At first Harry’s heart pounded when he was summoned to greet his visitor, however his stomach soon sank as instead of a beautiful blond face, he was greeted with a raven haired man of dour complexion. 

 

 

“Potter. I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you why I’m here.” Severus Snape drawled dismissively, sweeping like a bat into the living room with scarcely an invitation. 

 

 

“I actually don’t know why you’re here. Are Hermione and Neville okay?” Harry asked alarmed. 

 

 

“Don’t lie to me Potter. I know your game. You’re trying to ensnare my godson.” Snape snapped cruelly, ignoring Harry’s question about his friend’s wellbeing. 

 

 

“Draco? I’ve not done anything to ensnare him.” Harry stared blankly, his mind struggling to keep up with the accusations. 

 

 

“Good and you won’t. Draco is precious to me and the only person worthy to be his match is my ward Astoria.” 

 

 

“If he’s already engaged to Astoria, why should you worry about me ensnaring him?” Harry asked, not enjoying being pushed around in his own home. 

 

 

“It’s not a true engagement Potter. Draco might, in a fit of rebellion, decide to lower himself to asking you to marry him. You must vow to me now that you won’t marry him.” Snape’s eyes glared dangerously and Harry swallowed. 

 

 

“I won’t make that vow.” His tone was defiant and strong. “If Draco asks me to marry him then I’d like to have the freewill to choose whether to accept him.” 

 

 

“How dare you?” Snape’s volume was quiet and deceptively calm, “Astoria is a pure blooded, cultivated heiress of the upper echelons of society. She is worthy of the Malfoy name. You are not.” 

 

 

“If Draco believes I’m worthy of the Malfoy name, then that’s all that matters.” He argued back, wondering how his day had come to rowing with Britain’s top potions master on his right to marry his godson. A man that was probably no longer interested in him after the first rejection. Harry was beginning to get a headache. 

 

 

“I can see that my time is being wasted in trying to get you to see reason. It’s clear you’re not capable of it.” Snape sneered as he swept out of the door, leaving Harry drained and befuddled. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 19 

 

 

The next week tested Harry’s patience. He wondered whether it would be a good idea to send Draco a letter. He ached to talk to the man, but he wasn’t sure if the blond would want to talk with him, after all he’d been practically silent the last time they’d met. He resolved to give it a few more days before he’d owl Draco with a letter thanking him for his involvement in the twins’ rescue. In the meantime Harry had to deal with another minor complication. 

 

 

Mr Weasley had invited him to his study to talk, clasping a letter in his hand with laughter in his eyes. 

 

“I think Neville’s gone insane. He thinks that Draco Malfoy is going to propose to you. Can you believe it? You’re practically sworn enemies.” 

 

 

“I don’t think he’s that bad now.” Harry defended, though he refused to acknowledge the thrum of exhilaration he’d felt at the idea Neville had purported. If only Draco would propose to him, he sighed wistfully. 

 

 

“So you’re in a secret engagement then?” Arthur winked, clearly joking as he found the whole situation absurdly hilarious. 

 

 

“No!” Harry squeaked with a blush staining his cheeks. Mr Weasley surveyed him wonderingly. 

 

 

“Don’t worry I was only joking. I thought the letter would amuse you.” He smiled kindly and Harry felt silly for his overreaction. 

 

 

The conversation with his adoptive father had left him feeling off-kilter so he was not prepared to deal with the eventuality that was Draco accompanying Blaise to dinner at the burrow. To Harry’s dismay, the blond was just as standoffish as last time, clearly unsure about himself and how to act. He needed to see him alone, and unwittingly Mrs Weasley orchestrated the perfect ruse for that to occur when she suggested that the youth go to the burrow’s makeshift quidditch pitch for some outdoor activity. 

 

 

Thus Harry found himself in the company of Ron and Draco in the back garden of the burrow. The twins had slunk off to plot their usual pranks, Percy had some very important studying to undertake and the lovers Blaise and Ginny were too caught up in each other to do anything more than sit and hold hands. 

 

 

Mercifully, Ron soon got bored of playing keeper for Harry and Draco and had decided to see if he could get more refreshments from the kitchen, grumbling that he was hungry. So Harry, wanting to keep Draco outside with him, had suggested a seekers game. He had readily agreed and Harry was more than exhilarated as they competitively ducked and dived against each other in their search for the snitch. 

 

 

Panting from exhaustion, with three games played, the duo decided to have a break and sat on the grass. Harry having won two games out of the three experienced a surge of confidence as he looked into silver eyes. 

 

 

“Draco. I want to thank you, on behalf of my family, for everything you did in the rescue of the twins.” Harry began nervously, though he felt it needed to be said even as it brought an awkward tension. 

 

 

“Damn it. Nothing can be kept secret for long.” Draco rolled his eyes, “Well if you’re going to thank me Harry then you should know that I did it for you, not the Weasley family.” 

 

 

“Why?” Harry blurted out without thinking, wishing he could kick himself when he saw panic flicker across those grey eyes. 

 

 

Draco swallowed and Harry’s heart thumped. “Harry, if the answer is no, then I swear I won’t bother you again. But I need to know for certain.” He paused as he searched those emerald eyes, “Have your feelings for me remained unchanged? Do I have a chance to earn your love?” 

 

 

Harry could not believe his ears. The cocky, prepossessing blond was asking for reassurance that his feelings had the chance to be returned. His heart sung and he answered the blond’s question with a chaste kiss to the cheek. 

 

 

“My answers no Draco.” Harry teased. Though he continued quickly as Draco’s face fell, “You don’t need a chance to earn my love. You already have it.” 

 

 

The two wizards did not notice the hours that passed them by as they discussed many things; the past, present and future. It was only when the weather grew colder than Draco insisted they step inside the burrow, if only to tell everyone of the joyous news of their engagement. Harry readily agreed, though that was hardly surprising since he was dazed from his sheer happiness. He had found his perfect match after all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue: 

 

 

Snape sneered at Harry Potter-Malfoy as he entered Malfoy Manor. Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Over the past few years, he had become accustomed to this greeting and had decided that this was in fact Snape’s subtle way of expressing affection. 

 

 

The expert potion maker and bane of Harry’s existence was a vitally important person in Draco’s life and so the two had come to an understanding. They would only talk in matters of great urgency; such as a wizarding Armageddon and/or apocalypse. Snape had been astute enough to know that to be outwardly hostile to Harry would only alienate his godson, and so had seen reason to adopt only a passive aggressive attitude when snubbing the raven haired boy. 

 

 

The fall out in the wake of their engagement and subsequent marriage had been minimal. Draco had promised to tolerate the Weasley family and had even grown genuinely fond of Ginny, though he made a point to avoid the twins after an unfortunate incident involving Peruvian darkness powder and vanishing cream. Pansy had not taken the news well and her subsequent meltdown in Diagon Alley had been the talk of the wizarding community for weeks. After she had calmed down somewhat, she had grudgingly accepted Harry, though he did not turn his back to her even now. 

 

 

“Harry.” Snape appeared pained at the circumstance of actually having to talk to him directly. “Here is the male fertility potion we discussed. Even a dunderhead could follow my instructions so you may just be able to manage.” 

 

 

Harry ignored the man’s smirk and thanked him politely. He was so excited, he wanted this to be a surprise for Draco and had thus enlisted the caustic man’s help. 

 

 

“Give Draco my regards.” Snape swept out of the foyer, his cloak billowing behind him in what Harry thought was an excessive amount. 

 

 

“Harry. Must we visit the Weasley’s ‘house’ later? You know that woman gives me a headache.” Draco whined petulantly referring to Mrs Weasley. Harry had to stifle a laugh that always occurred when his husband sulked, it was rather adorable. He knew that Narcissa, his doting mother-in-law would have chastised her son for his childish behaviour and he knew that was why Draco only did it out of her earshot. 

 

 

“Now now dear you promised.” Harry smirked, patronisingly tapping Draco on the head, “Anyway Blaise and Ginny will be there, and we all know you love Minerva.” 

 

 

Draco hmphed grudgingly, it was his worst kept secret that he adored his best friend’s one year old daughter. “Fine, but you owe me Potter.” 

 

 

“Of course Malfoy.” Harry grinned cheekily. He couldn’t wait to start the next chapter of their lives.


End file.
